


Smoke Screen

by OpheliaDawn1428



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Breeding, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Coercion, Dark Steve, Dark Steve Rogers, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, Stalking, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaDawn1428/pseuds/OpheliaDawn1428
Summary: Synopsis:  Modern day Steve uses SHIELD technology to make himself appear pre serum and unthreatening on a dating app. Using his gentlemanly guise, he manipulates the reader into liking him and meeting with him. Only to reveal his muscular form and darker intentions.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 32
Kudos: 275





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: Well once again I can’t seem to let a one shot be a one shot lol This probably won’t be as long as Siren but you can expect around 5 parts. I have a lot of ideas so we’ll see how things unfold. Feedback is always appreciated and thanks for reading!
> 
> Contains: coercion, manipulation, stalking, sexual content, dub con, non con, violence

You sigh as you look back and forth at your potential outfits for tonight and choose to ignore the mountain of discarded clothes by the bed. One was a new sundress you’d bought at the boutique down the road. The other was distressed shorts, a fitted tank and a long floral kimono cardigan. One was casual and the other was dressy. But was it too much for a first date?

Which one would Dean prefer?

You started talking to him roughly two weeks ago on a new dating app. After a particularly long dry spell, you were initially just happy that someone was paying you any attention. You were never really good at making the first move, so more often than not, you blended into the background. Over shadowed by those more confident and charming. Usually, that suited you just fine. The less eyes on you, the less you had to try to impress. But the weeks turned into months and the loneliness began to seep in.

Until you matched with Dean.

This wasn’t unusual for you. While you weren’t the dazzling life of the party, you certainly were attractive enough to at least earn a second look. So being on a dating app where first impressions are directly tied to whether or not you fancy someone’s profile picture, works just fine.

But the usual matches typically devolve into asking for nudes, how many fingers can you fit in your mouth, or bragging about their no doubt disappointing cock size. And you would block and move on. None of them ever bothered to ask you out on a real date.

Until Dean.

At first glance at his profile picture, he looked…cute and nonthreatening. He was standing posed in front of the Brooklyn Bridge on a foggy day, wearing a blue plaid shirt and a tan jacket. His eyes were bright blue, he had a head of thick light blonde hair and a nice smile. He was very lean if you were being generous, skinny and waifish if you were being honest. Dean certainly wasn’t bad to look at, just not your usual type. His face looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t place it.

You check out his other pictures with a swipe of your fingers. There wasn’t many. One was of him standing on a hiking trail, wearing athletic gear. He has the slight body of a marathoner so this doesn’t surprise you. And you always liked hiking too.

The next picture is a closeup of his smiling face, cuddled up to a sweet looking dog. Okay definitely not bad.

The very first PM he ever sent you, was questioning which medium you used for one of your paintings. It was a field of purple flowers near a cliff side that you were really proud of and had spent several hours intricately painting individual petals. It was the only picture on your profile other than you.

Y/N: Just acrylics. I use water colors too but I just started practicing with oils.

It was refreshing and you were mildly amused that he bothered to ask about it. He was the first one after all. Inwardly, you were just waiting for the inevitable shift into clumsy sexual double entondras.

Dean: It’s beautiful. I’ve never been very good with water colors myself.

Y/N: Thank you. What do you like to paint?

Dean: People and faces. But I’ve been dabbling with landscapes. Mostly bodies of water.

Y/N: Very nice. I’d like to see some of your work. Do you have an Instagram? That’s where I post most of mine.

Dean: Haha sadly no. I’m afraid I’m a little behind on the times.

Y/N: I can understand that. One less thing to worry about. Sometimes it’s hard to keep track of all my accounts.

Dean: Exactly. But I’d be happy to send a picture of my newest painting if you’d like.

Y/N: I would

And from there it sort of took off. Your interactions started out very casual and…sweet. Neither of you trying to be overly witty or trying too hard to impress each other. Just two people bonding over similar interests and having genuinely interesting conversations. You’re not exactly sure when things changed but then did. The tell tale butterflies started to make their home in your stomach. The comforting sleepy lull you would get from staying up way too late because neither of you wanted the conversation to end. The rush of excitement you would get, waking up to a new message from Dean every morning. The disappointment when he would take a little too long to reply. The subtle shift from asking about each other’s hobbies and day to flirting. The hints that this could blossom into something more. It was shiny and new. It gave you something to look forward to. Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

You smile wide when you hear the tell tale ping from your phone. Tucking the edge of your towel in, you reach down to check the notifications. The name that flashes across your screen sends your heart fluttering.

Dean: I’m really looking forward to tonight. 

A cluster of butterflies flap in your stomach as you eagerly respond.

Y/N: Me too. It’s all I’ve been thinking about today.

As you wait for a response, you finish toweling off and rub your favorite cake pop scented lotion over your newly shaved skin. You had four hours to get ready for your date, but your excitement and nerves compelled you to get a head start. After all, this was the first time you and Dean would be meeting face to face. You wanted everything to be perfect.

Dean: I know what you mean. I’m already struggling to pick what to wear.

Y/N: lol no way. I just got out of the shower because I couldn’t wait.

Dean: Oh really? Can I have a picture?

Y/N: Nothing too saucy. But a little taste? Sure.

Dean: You little tease :P

Y/N: You make it so easy ;)

Adjusting your position, you tuck the towel back in and fix your still wet hair as best you can. You’d just finished washing and moisturizing your face so the skin was still bare and shiny. But you knew he won’t mind. He’d said as much before.

Y/N: Ok I’ll send one. But I want one too ;)

You carefully arrange the towel so it bares your collar bones and a slight hint of cleavage. Pinching your cheeks for that flushed look and nibbling on your bottom lip to increase the blood flow and color. Old fashioned techniques, but they work. Holding your camera up high, you wink at the camera and take the picture. Quickly cropping out what isn’t necessary and changing the lighting into something more flattering, you send the picture.

***************************************************************************************

Across town Steve Rogers feels his phone vibrate in his hands under the table. In the meeting, Fury drones on about security protocol in the Tower and Steve couldn’t care less at the moment. He spares a quick glance to the other Avengers and agents in the room and they seem just as tuned out as he is. Carefully, he looks down to peek at his phone between his legs.

He sees that you sent a picture and eagerly opens it. Seeing your bare skin flushed from the shower, perfect lips curled into a mischievous smile and the precarious position of the towel sends a rush of blood straight to his cock.

Steve quickly excuses himself and goes straight to his own private quarters in Avengers Tower. Heated thoughts of what lies hidden under your towel flashing through his mind. Once alone, he pulls his cock out and begins to stroke himself to your image. Picturing those pouty lips wrapped around him. Your tongue eagerly licking him. Tasting him. How perfect and wet your pussy would feel clenched around him as he thrusts into you. It doesn’t take long before he comes in his hand with a throaty moan.

Tucking himself back into his pants, Steve picks up his phone and idly swipes through a folder. He went through the liberty of taking several pictures of himself in various locations, to make things more believable. Using SHIELD hologram technology, he was able to revert his appearance to his pre serum form. And with the help of a thing called Photoshop, he was able to manipulate every photo to appear as realistic as possible. It seems like a lot of effort but he had to be sure. It would all be worth it.

His eyes narrow in concentration as he carefully goes through several altered pictures of himself before settling on a casual selfie taken in his apartment. It would have to do for now.

You still think his name is Dean. And you’ve fallen for the real him.

Steve smiles as he sends the picture and pockets the phone. Tonight, you will learn the truth.

Tonight will be perfect.

*****************************************************************************************

It’s almost thirty minutes later before Dean messages you back. In your haste to grab your phone, you almost knock the scarlet nail polish over.

God what was wrong with you?

Wiggling your feet so your toes can dry, you look at the picture Dean sent. A cute selfie of him lounging back on his couch. Wearing a white T-shirt with one skinny arm stretched along the back. 

Y/N: Adorable

Dean: Thanks I try

Y/N: We still meeting at 7?

Dean: Absolutely. I can’t til you try Donovan’s special. 

You: I’ll try anything once. Long as there’s no peanuts.

Dean: No nuts. Trust me you’ll never want to eat anything else ever again.

Y/N: I’ll believe it when I taste it.

Dean: ;)

You smirk as you finally lay the phone down and hook it up to your charger. The plan was to meet for a casual dinner and see where that takes you. Dean says he knows where the absolute best food trucks in Brooklyn are. Being a foodie yourself, that sounds perfect.

You look back and forth between your outfits again, then look at the clock. Almost three hours to go. You need a distraction or you would go crazy from waiting.

You throw on a clean nightshirt and boy shorts and grab your latest book. Settling onto the couch, you thumb through the pages. The captivating words seep into you and finally calm your overactive nerves.

*****************************************************************************************

Hours later, you stand by the street corner right where Dean said to meet him. You initially weren’t entirely sure where this location was but thankfully he provided a cute little privately owned brightly colored cafe for a landmark. Made things much simpler. As promised, the street is lined with food trucks. The delicious smells of the freshly made cuisine make your stomach growl.

You let out a slow exhale as your peer at the other passerbyes, hoping for a glimpse of Dean. The sooner he shows up the sooner your pounding heart will ease up.The sun has just begun to set, leaving the sky purple and melted with orange rays. You had decided on the dress and a pair of wedge heels with your hair fixed and subtle makeup. You hope he likes it. You hope he’s not disappointed. Pictures can only show so much after all.

You shift through your purse and pick up your phone. 

The time reads 7:05. 

Y/N: I’m here. Where are you?

Dean: I just got here. Right behind you.

You close your eyes and gather your wits before turning around to see your date.

Only to see Steve Rogers standing a few feet behind you. Wearing a fitted black button up with the sleeves rolled up, dark pants and a warm boyish smile. 

“Hello Y/N. You look beautiful.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and you quickly peek around him, hoping to see your actual date walking behind him. But no. There was no one else standing near you. You straighten to finally acknowledge him.

“What…what’s going on? Is this a joke?”

Steve raises his hands as though showing he doesn’t mean you any harm.

“Please let me explain.”

“You’re not…you’re not Dean.”

“No I’m not,” he says softly as he moves to approach you.

“Wait…wait…” you take a step back, cautiously raising your hands in front of you. Not that it matters. With his carved rippling muscles, this man could literally rip you in two if he wanted. You realize with horrifying clarity why “Dean’s” face looked so familiar at first. How could you have been so stupid?

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have lied to you. But I had to be sure.”

You cross your arms in front of you. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m not…used to the way things are done. Courting, I mean.” He gives you a shy smile, but your hardened stare offers him nothing in return. God he was beautiful. Even through your anger and suspicion, you couldn’t deny that.

“Used to be you saw a pretty girl at the dance hall and you ask her out. Meet her folks. But now things are different. There’s apps and social media and I just can’t keep up. I tried to meet women…as I am. But so many just wanted to meet me because of what I am and how I look. Not because they want to get to know me. Not because they want a true connection.”

At his confession, you feel your resolve falter slightly but you huff and shake your head. “Getting a ton of booty calls, doesn’t give you a free pass to lie and manipulate me for the past two weeks.”

“I know, you’re right and I’m sorry. But you seemed different. And I knew that if we had a real shot, I had to know if you truly liked me for me.”

“You think I don’t understand that? Meeting and dating people through apps is so shitty sometimes. There’s so many people out there who lie about who they are. Who exaggerate and make themselves out to be someone they’re not. I just didn’t think you were one of them.”

“It’s true. I deceived you and lied about my appearance. But everything we said over the last couple of weeks? Our conversations? I meant every word. I didn’t lie then.”

“You didn’t have to do this. None of that matters to me.”

“Are you disappointed?”

You open your mouth to contradict him, but you can’t bring yourself to. He was Steve Rogers for heaven’s sake. Adonis himself would be jealous of his golden boy looks. But you know deep down the thing you’re most upset with is the deception.

You shake your head firmly. “I don’t like this. Any of it.”

“Please, let me make it up to you.”

“I don’t know if you can, Steve.” You try his real name out with cold emphasis. It tastes weird and bitter on your tongue.

“Can we please just start over?”

“Why should I let you? Why should I believe anything you say now?” Your foot hits an uneven patch on the side walk and you stumble. You almost fall, but Steve quickly reaches out to catch you. One hand gripping your upper arm and the other at your waist. You slowly raise your head and your breath catches at the way his heated gaze traces your features. You’re standing so close now, you can smell his cologne. You don’t move away. You should. You should slap him, tell him to fuck right off and go home. But you don’t.

“Because for the last two weeks, I’ve felt happier than I’ve been in a long time. I felt like I met a kindred spirit. Someone who would accept all of me. Someone I could laugh and cherish and share new memories with. And I think you’ve felt it to.”

Your lips part as you feel his fingers trace circles over your waist. You feel your cheeks flush and your heat skips a beat. Steve leans in a little closer. Mere inches separated your lips.

“I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this goes. Don’t you?”

You say nothing, merely press your lips together as you contemplate his words. 

“I promise. Nothing but honesty from here on out. Just please…give me one more chance.” His cobalt eyes shine with such boyish hope and you let out a sigh of surrender.

Maybe he did have a point. He went about this all wrong but you could certainly see where he was coming from. Should you deny yourself yet another potential chance at finding something real? Should you take that risk?

You let out another sigh as all resolve melts away. “Ok. One chance. But if you lie to me again, it’s over.”

***********************************************************************************

An hour later, Steve has you pressed against the wall outside of your apartment, trailing kisses down your bare neck. You curl your fingers tightly into his hair as you pull him closer against you. Undulating your hips into his, yearning for that heated friction. He reaches down and pulls one of your bare legs up to wrap around his waist. Your hands are sliding all over his body, feeling every sculpted body beneath his carefully tailored clothes. His hands are caressing your curves with practiced ease. He grinds his hips into you and you let out a loud moan when you feel his obvious arousal against you. Every touch sent your body into a frenzy. You want more. Need more. And yet-

“Steve…we have to stop.” You pant softly, your awakened body inwardly cursing you.

Steve immediately stills and raises his head to brush his lips against yours.

“Are you sure?” He asks teasingly, touching your thighs beneath your bunched up dress.

“Yes, I’m sure. I need some…time to wrap my head around everything. We shouldn’t rush into anything.”

Steve sighs and purposefully leans his hips against yours once more, earning a soft mewl from your lips. After a moment, he straightens up and trails his knuckles down your cheek before planting a firm yet sweet kiss on your mouth.

“You’re right, Y/N. We’ll take our time. Really get to know each other. We deserve this.”

You nod and give him a small smile before kissing his cheek. “Goodnight Steve. Despite that rocky start I had a nice time.”

“So did I. Goodnight Y/N.” He says with a warm smile as he watches you leave to walk up the stairs to your apartment.

****************************************************************************************

Once inside, you let out a heavy sigh of relief, thankful the night was finally over. Despite genuinely having a nice time with Steve, you couldn’t help but feel like he was a little too intense. He was certainly nice enough and treated you respectfully. But there was something there that just felt off. Your admittedly shallow attraction to him made your body practically hum with arousal which led to your little tumble in the alley. You hope you didn’t make a mistake letting things get as far as they did. Maybe you just needed some space from Steve. Take a breather. You might give him another chance one day.

Maybe.

Changing into your PJs, you sat down on the bed, thumbing through the dating app on your phone.

Oh good, you have a few new matches.

*************************************************************************************

Back at his apartment, Steve sat on his bed holding his phone and stroking your picture lovingly with his finger. Tonight had confirmed it.

You were the one. He knew it.

You loved him for him and you even wanted to wait for sex. Such a rarity in this time. It nearly killed him to drag himself away from you. The way you looked up at him with such wanton need. Your parted lips, heaving breasts and delicious thighs peeking under your dress.

Steve sighs with exasperation as he feels yet another stirring in his loins. He already came twice when he got home. But that’s just what you did to him.

He wouldn’t rush you. He could be patient.

His eyes shift to the small box sitting on his nightstand. The box that held your engagement ring.

After all, you are the one he’s been waiting for.

****************************************************************


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Thanks everyone for reading :) I have so many ideas and I can't wait to see how this story unfolds. Feedback is always appreciated and mind the warnings. This story is also posted on my tumblr @opheliadawnwalker3.

In his apartment, Steve stares anxiously at his phone. It’s been hours since your last message. You _used_ to message him all day long. Even when you were at work.

He stands up, beginning to pace. Hands balling into tight fists at his sides. He already ran ten miles earlier and lifted weights for two. He needed something else. He needed to work off this frustration.

You were pulling away. He just _knew_ it.

But _why_? Was it your date? He thought everything had gone so well. Didn’t women want romance? Didn’t women _love_ commitment? What did he do wrong? Why were you drifting away?

Out of desperation, he even sent you a couple of recent pictures to remind you of your attraction. He knew you were attracted to him. You _had_ to be. Otherwise why did you kiss him? Why did you let him put his hands all over you?

Steve grits his teeth and clenches his fingers atop one of his kitchen chairs. The wood slowly begins to crack in his merciless grip.

You were different than the others. You were the one for him.

Steve slowly exhales and rolls his head, trying in vain to release the tension brewing from his turmoil. He just…needed to wait. He needed you to come to him this time. As much as it kills him, he’ll back off. Give you time you need to sort it out. And if you didn’t?

He would just have to make that decision _for_ you.

****************************************************************************************************************************************

“Hey girl!” you give your best friend a wide smile as you cross the quaint cafe to give her a big hug. Chloe eagerly hugs you back and the pair of you sit down at the table. She was your best friend back in college, but after graduation, it began to get harder and harder to see each other. But at least every couple of months, you try to get together. Looking her over, she hasn’t changed a bit. Textured dirty blonde hair hangs to her shoulders, bright green eyes, slightly tanned skin and a sprinkling of freckles dots across her nose. She has one of those faces that will always have a youthful appearance. Even though she’s pushing thirty, she looks closer to nineteen. Ironic because she’s no doubt your crudest and raunchiest friend.

“Long time no see, stranger,” Chloe winks at you as she takes a sip of her iced caramel macchiato.

You give her a sheepish grin. “I know, I know I’m sorry. Boss keeps giving me these tight deadlines and I barely get some time to myself.”

She rolls her eyes playfully. “Excuses, excuses.”

You start digging around in your purse for your wallet, when she waves you off. “Don’t worry about it. I already ordered you a hot vanilla mocha and a brownie. Should be out any minute.”

“Aw thanks girl, you spoil me. No peanuts right?”

“I double checked. But just in case, you got a pen?”

You pat your purse. “Always do.”

“Good. Sooo tell me what’s new with you? Anything good to report on?” she asks, leaning forward with interest. The layered necklace she’s wearing settles directly into her cleavage, bringing attention to her breasts, already showcased in her low cut top. A fact, she’s no doubt conscious of. Despite her deceivingly girlish face, Chloe always radiates confidence and allure. Something you were always secretly envious of.

You shrug coyly, just itching to tell her all about your odd yet interesting date with Captain America himself. But you want to string her along first. Build up the drama.

“Nah, nothing really.”

Just then a young barista brings your drink and brownie over and you thank him. He looks fresh out of high school and you don’t envy the years of quiet unrest and desperate longing to find his place, that await him. Chloe observes you with keen eyes as you nonchalantly take a small sip of your sweet beverage.

“Uh huh. I know that look. You’re hiding something.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Cut the crap hoe, and tell me.”

You giggle, breaking off a tiny piece of your brownie to nibble on. You trust Chloe, but you can never be too careful. You chew slowly, savoring the sweet taste rolling over your tongue. When you feel no tell tale tingling sensation, you deem it safe and swallow. Chloe watches you with raised brows, probably both anxious to hear your news, and hoping she doesn’t accidentally send you into anaphylactic shock. You relieve her with an impish grin.

“Ok, ok. There _is_ something I need to tell you.” You admit, looking around to your immediate surroundings. It was past two on a weekday, so the cafe was practically empty.

“You know how I signed up for Tinder a few months ago?”

“Yeah, I thought you hadn’t gone out with anyone because they were all pervy assholes.”

“True…but-”

“Oh my god, did you meet someone? Did you get laid? Is he hot?”

“Chloe, down.” You quip playfully. “I can’t answer anything if you keep asking questions a mile a minute.”

She sits back and sticks her tongue out. “Fine, continue.”

So you tell her everything. How Steve faked his profile, even his name. How he surprised you on your date. How the evening went, even up to the steamy encounter in the alley. The entire time Chloe listens and stares in utter awe. A small part of you revels in her reaction. More often than not, she’s the one with far more interesting stories. Celebrities she’s bumped into. Concerts where she sneaks backstage and meets the band. Wild parties she’s attended. Not to mention her many, many erotic conquests. Chloe is just someone who interesting things just happen to. For once, it feels nice to have a captivating story of your own.

“No fucking way. **_The_** Captain America??” she asks incredulously.

You nod, still having trouble wrapping your head around it yourself. It was only a couple of days ago, but your mind is still reeling. “I call bullshit.” Chloe sits back and crosses her arms across her chest. You can’t help but hear a slight tinge of jealousy in her voice and you can’t blame her.

“I swear to God I’m not making this up,” you assure her as you dig out your phone. Opening the app, you go to “Dean’s” profile and show her the pictures. Steve decided to keep his old profile for privacy sake but he personally sent you new pictures since your date. Nothing raunchy. Well, unless you count the post workout picture with the sweat making his already painted on shirt, cling to every sculpted line of his toned torso.

You show her that particular one in your DM’s and you almost laugh at how closely her shocked expression resembles a gasping fish.

“Oh my _god_!! I can’t believe this! This is _amazing_!! And _damn_ girl good for you!” She gives you a saucy wink as she looks at his picture once more before handing the phone back.

“So when are you seeing him again?”

“Well…that’s just it…I don’t know if I _am_ yet.”

Chloe chokes on her drink, her bright green eyes practically bugging out of her head. “Um excuse me?? You’re planning on ghosting Steve _Rogers_?” Her voice has gotten louder and you see a barista look up at you with interest.

“Shhhh keep your _voice_ down. I said I’m not sure. I’m still talking to him. I just…need to figure out if I’m going to see him again.”

“I mean, you’re not even gonna let him get up in those guts?”

You can’t help but laugh at her crudeness. “Look, it’s not that he’s not gorgeous and sweet, but I don’t know…he came off just a little too _intense_ the other night. As much as I _want_ to, I think sleeping with him would just complicate things.”

“Well…what do you mean he was intense?”

“I mean…the way he talked. Already referring to us as “we”…talking about future dates…I don’t know it all seemed too much. Especially for a _first_ date.”

“Let me get this straight. Golden boy hero with the body of a Greek God shows you a little romance and you want to duck out? Without even _giving_ him the cookie?”

“It was more than a little romance,” you mumble, suddenly unsure of yourself. Were you just being overly cautious? _Were_ you making too many assumptions about Steve?

Chloe sighs and reaches across to steal a piece of your brownie. “Look, I know it’s fun to play the singles game and just one and done people, but you can’t forget that love _is_ out there somewhere. It’s ok to catch feelings for someone. I know its easier to be alone but you can’t stay closed off forever. You deserve to be happy.”

You sigh and nod your head, taking another sip and mulling it over. “As always, you’re right Chloe. But that’s easier said than done.”

“Not that hard when Captain America is knocking on your door,” She replies with a wry smile.

“So…you think I need to give him another chance?”

“Girl, I would let that man chain me up in his _basement_ if he wanted to.” She adds teasingly, holding her hands up. “But that’s just me.”

You think for a moment, taking another small bite of you’re brownie.

“Look, I’m not saying you have to fall in _love_ with the guy. Just give him another chance. If you’re still not feeling him, you could always just fuck him a few times. Keep it casual. And let me live vicariously through you.”

You roll your eyes before eventually nodding. “Alright. If you think I should give him another chance then I will.”

“Atta girl. And you better not skimp on the details when ya’ll finally smash. I’m curious to see if America’s Ass has an equally impressive dick.”

You smirk, taking a large pull of your coffee. “You’re the worst.”

Chloe exaggeratedly flips her hair off her shoulder. “That’s why you love me.”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

An hour later, you walk back into your small yet homey apartment. Placing your shopping bag full of books down on the counter, you pour yourself a glass of Moscato. You stare at your phone by your purse in quiet contemplation as you weigh your options. You _could_ spend the evening curled up reading one of your new books, despite the vast amounts of unread books still sitting on your bookshelf. Your eyes pan over to the small disorganized corner you dubbed your art studio. Or work on a new painting. _Or_ ….you could take a chance.

After taking a hearty sip of your wine, you finally work up the courage and pick up your phone.

********************************************************************************************************************************************

Steve snarls as his fists collides over and over with the weighted punching bag. Faster and faster. Harder and harder. His whole body is covered in sweat and his muscles are straining from another strenuous workout. His ire and unrest driving him forward. Pushing his limits further and further. He’s about to rip the punching bag clear off when-

A familiar notification ping sounds next to him, halting his brutal actions. His jaw unclenches as he wipes the sweat from his brow and slowly walks over. His massive chest heaving with labored breaths.

The glowing screen of his phone illuminates your message and his heart swells.

_**You: Hey I’m sorry for replying so late. Work has been crazy the last couple of days.** _

He’s certain you’re lying but he forgives you. He’s about to type a response but another message comes in almost instantly.

_**You: I was wondering if maybe you were free tonight? I know it’s last minute but I’d like to see you again. If you want to.** _

He smirks, fingers hovering over the touch pad for a brief moment. He has to play it cool. He can’t push you away. Not again.

_**Steve: Sure. Anything in particular you’d like to do?** _

There is about a minute before you respond again. It feels like an eternity.

**_You: lol not a clue. Any ideas?_ **

Steve pauses for a moment, thinking. Something casual and harmless. He has to pull back. Not come on too strong this time. This is probably his only chance to get things right. He gathers his things and saunters into the showers before replying.

_**Steve: I know just the place. Want to meet around 7 again?** _

_**You: Sounds good to me!** _

_**Steve: Perfect. Let me just hop in the shower and I’ll send you the address.** _

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

You watch, amazed as Steve’s neon blue ball avoids the swinging pirate sword and drops effortlessly into the hole. _Another_ hole in one. You turn to acknowledge him as he straightens up and gives you a wide smile. You couldn’t believe how much fun you were having. Tonight has been so different than your first date. Tonight everything feels so… _effortless_. The conversations have been warm and never even strayed to being awkward. Hell, your throat is practically sore from all the laughing. Steve hasn’t made you feel wary or uncomfortable the entire night. In fact…he seems determined to make you feel completely at ease. If so, he definitely succeeded. You’re having a wonderful time. And if you’re being honest, you don’t want this night to end.

Maybe that first date was just a fluke? First date awkwardness? Or because he’s from a different time? Clearly you were being foolish with your initial reservations. Steve Rogers is a good man. He’s saved the _world_ for heaven’s sake. He’s a hero. He could have _anyone_. And he chose _you_.

You’re glad you asked him out. You’d be a fool not to.

“Wow how are you so good at this?” You ask, making another mark on the score card before setting it to the side.

He shrugs his shoulders. Tonight he went for a more relaxed look with a fitted baseball style shirt and jeans. To avoid being recognized, he decided to wear thick black framed glasses and a baseball cap. Not that that helped hide his absurdly good looks.

“Not to be an old man, but _back in my day_ , these minigolf courses were just starting out. They’d send them when we were overseas for entertainment. I guess I just…picked up a few things. Of course they’re way more elaborate now,” Steve chuckles as he gestures to the fake pirate ship, pyramids, and Eiffel Tower.

You shake your head, lightly punching his arm before going over to try and knock your ball in. You have many talents but minigolf is not one of them. But it’s fun nonetheless. You tap your bright orange ball and watch it roll right into the swinging sword’s path. It bounces off the obstacle and sends it rolling all the way back to the starting mound. Sheepishly, you turn around.

“Probably a good time to mention I’ve never really been good at this.”

“Here let me help you.” Steve says as he takes a step closer. He pauses, handsome face suddenly suddenly filled with apprehension. “If that’s alright.”

You nod eagerly, tapping your fingers on your club. “Of course. I need all the help i can get.”

Steve puts his hands on your hips and adjusts your position to line you up properly. He presses in close behind you and places his chin on your shoulder. You feel every ridge of his hard body against you and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest and seep down. He reaches down to cover your hands with his and carefully shift them where they need to go.

“Just place your hands here…good. Now spread your feet a little more and bend your knees.” His breath hits your neck and you shiver. You do what he says, pushing your hips purposefully back against him.

“Like this?” you ask softly, turning your head slightly towards his. Your faces mere inches apart. His hooded blue eyes bore into you. His heated gaze make you part your lips with bated breath.

“Perfect.”

He helps you swing the club gently and tap the ball. It goes clear pass the pirate sword and into the hole. “Look at that a Hole in one.” Steve affirms, placing a quick kiss on your neck. You feel your cheeks and neck flush and you straighten up to meet his eye. Raw desire flowing through your veins.

“How many more holes do we have?”

“Seven.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long.”

Steve gives you a knowing smile. “Then we better turn in our clubs. I’d _hate_ to keep you waiting.”

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

You barely make into his apartment before Steve presses you back against the door, and his lips meet yours in a demanding kiss. You eagerly reciprocate, biting his bottom lip and reaching under his shirt to feel his smooth skin and carved muscles. His hat and glasses are tossed carelessly to the ground next to you. God you want him. And this time, you’re not stopping. Consequences be damned.

His lips graze against your jaw and up to your ear. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He whispers, his voice thick with lust.

In response, you slide a hand purposefully down the front of his jeans and give him a mischievous smile. “Absolutely.”

“Oh thank God,” He pants as he meets your lips once more. You moan into his mouth when his fingers slips into the edge of your shorts and trace a teasing path along your lower abdomen.

“I want to feel you,” He moans as you continue to rub your hand against him.

“Please Steve,” You mewl, shifting your hips forward. Giving not only your consent but your enthusiasm as well. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you when he slides his fingers into your panties and touches your slick folks. Your other hands reaches up to grasp the back of his neck, holding on for dear life.

“Feel how wet you are. You _do_ want this,” Steve affirms smugly, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit. A wave of pleasure washes over you and you grasp his erection through his jeans.

“And _you_ want this just as bad.” You tease softly.

He smirks as his lips drift to your ear once more, his hand still working you closer and closer to the edge.

“Then what are we waiting for?” He asks, lightly nipping your ear.

“I don’t fucking know,” you practically growl as you reach down impatiently to pull his shirt up. He chuckles as he removes his hands from you to assist you. His bare torso is even more impressive than you thought. You reach down to unzip his jeans as he takes off your shirt. Burying his mouth in your neck as you reach a hand in his dark blue boxer briefs to grasp him. He’s thick and large. You shouldn’t be surprised but you’re certainly impressed.

Steve groans against your skin, biting and licking along your throat as he practically rips your bra from your body. Everywhere he touches sends your body tingling with need and you only crave more.

Without warning, Steve effortlessly picks you up, wrapping your legs around his as he walks the pair of you into his kitchen. He sets you on the counter top grabbing your neck to pull you into another desperate kiss. His other hand slipping into the front of your panties again. You mewl into his mouth as he rolls over the sensitive flesh and teases your entrance. You don’t know how much longer you can last.

“Please… Steve…”

“Mmm, I like hearing you _beg_.” Steve purrs, speeding his ministrations up as his fingers tighten slightly around your neck. Your thighs begin to tremble around his waist and your fingers dig into his biceps.

“I want you…please,” Your voice comes out feeble and ragged.

“And you’ll have me. But not _yet_ ,” He commands as he enters you with one finger, curling rapidly and increasing the delicious friction on your clit. You feel the pressure building and building until the dam splinters and cracks away. Your toes curl at his back and you close your eyes in ecstasy as the pleasure hits you like a freight train. Steve watches you come unraveled in his hands with smug satisfaction as he leans in for a chaste kiss as the subtle aftershocks send your body twitching. He removes his fingers from your cunt, and licks them sensually, tasting your juices with such relish. His blue eyes never leaving yours. He lifts his hand to playfully tug at the bottom of your shorts.

“Now how about we take these off and go continue this in the bedroom?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Hey peeps! Back at it again with another part because I can’t seem to stop lately lol. Feedback is always appreciated and thanks for reading!
> 
> Contains: coercion, manipulation, blackmail, stalking, sexual content, dub con, non con, violence, unhinged possessive Steve

You cry out in ecstasy, arching your hips against Steve as he rips yet another orgasm from you. Sweat coats your skins and your throat is hoarse. Steve moans loudly against your shoulder as he thrusts deep within you and you feel his cock pulsate with his release.

Panting heavily, you reach up to pull him down on top of you, loving the feeling of his comforting weight. Wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him inside you a moment longer and lightly dragging your fingernails along his back.

“Fuck…” you pant softly, your body humming with blissful numbness as it comes down from your carnal high.

You feel him smile against your skin.

“Language, young lady,” He chastises as he kisses just below your ear.

“Or what, _Captain_? Are you going to punish me for saying _fuck_?” You retort, clenching your cunt purposefully around him. Steve groans and you feel his cock twitch.

“ _Don’t_ tempt me. I have half a mind to gag you.”

“Ooo promise?”

He lets out a quiet laugh as he raises up to look down at you. He strokes your cheek in such a gentle manner, his bright blue eyes taking in your every feature.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

You feel a genuine smile touch your lips. “Thank you.”

“You know…you’re welcome to stay.” You bite your lip, pondering over your options. This isn’t what you normally do. You’re usually much smarter than this. But this…whatever it is, feels right. It doesn’t take you long before you nod with a sleepy smile.

“Okay.”

Steve leans down to kiss you, soft and sweet, before pulling away to wash up and dispose of the condom. He earned kudos earlier for not clumsily trying to convince you to let him bareback. You’re on birth control, but you don’t fuck with STD’s either. Even if he _IS_ an Avenger. Your eyes warmly follow him into the bathroom as he shuts the door behind him.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************

Steve smirks in the mirror as he carefully unrolls the broken condom from his cock. After you had messaged him for a second date, he went to the liberty of poking tiny holes into every condom in the box under his sink. One single, undetectable hole for each one. He knew he’d convince you to let him in. No one had ever resisted him before.

Steve flexes in the mirror, admiring the light sheen coating his fit body. He was perfect. And you were perfect for _him_. He can already picture the children you would bear him. With his eyes. Your beautiful smile. Your contagious laugh.

He closes his eyes as he pictures you with a rounding belly and the radiant glow of impending motherhood. Standing barefoot in the kitchen as you cook their meals. Wearing nothing but a thin sundress. He comes up behind you, pressing his lips to your neck as his hands brush over you. Feeling your curves and the child moving inside you.

His cock twitches at the fantasy and he silently groans. Maybe it was time to see how talented your luscious mouth was.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

You hear your alarm on your phone go off and you groggily crack your eyes open. Groaning, you reach over and swipe the snooze on the touch screen. You can make out the warm glow of the sun’s early rays bleeding into the bedroom. Yawning, you stretch, your limbs splaying out across the now empty bed. The smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee makes your mouth water as you slowly sit up. Pulling your shirt over your lace boy shorts, you walk out of the bedroom.

Steve looks up from his place at the counter and gives you a warm smile. “Good morning.”

You smile sleepily as you lean against the counter. “Morning.”

“So last night was…” Steve grins, suddenly looking boyish and lost for words. You can sense that he’s most likely gaging your response. You give him a reassuring smile.

“ _Really_ fun,” you finish as you stretch your arms above your head. Your shirt rises up your stomach and Steve’s eyes slide appreciatively over your panties and bare skin.

He places a blue mug in front of you, full of fresh coffee. “I wasn’t sure how you liked it, but I have creamer and sugar next to the pot if you want. I also made some bacon and toast.”

“Thanks, Steve. I feel spoiled,” You admit as you stir a little of creamer in your coffee.

Steve cocks his head. “Men don’t usually make you breakfast after a wonderful night?”

You shrug, taking a small sip of your coffee, feeling the soothing warmth slide down your throat and into your chest. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know. I don’t…do this often. Stay the night I mean.”

“Well, I’m always happy to prove you wrong,” Steve says with a wink, brushing by you to refill his mug.

After making a small plate for yourself, you move to sit at the counter. Nibbling on some thick maple bacon, you keenly take in the apartment for the first time. For a man out of time, it seems as though Steve decided on a more modern aesthetic. With sleek new appliances, subtle color pops and no clutter. On the walls were tasteful Captain America paraphernalia. It surprises you and yet, you feel it suits him. Your eyes shift to the front door.

“Wow. That’s some security.” You exclaim, noticing the large key pad next to the front door. You’re amazed you hadn’t noticed it last night. Then again Steve had kept you plenty distracted.

Steve, looks down at it sheepishly. “I like my privacy. I’ve had… _instances_ before with press and stalkers following me. Boundaries were crossed.”

You nod, sipping on your coffee. “Yeah I imagine Steve Roger nudes would sell for a pretty penny. But seriously… I’m sorry you had to deal with that. People can be such entitled pricks sometimes. I guess it’s easy for them to forget that you’re a person too.” You add with sincerity.

He shrugs a massive shoulder, giving you a grin with straight perfect teeth. “Ah, don’t worry about it. You get used to the attention. Still, it’s nice to have my own little safe haven. Really helps me unwind.”

“I know what you mean. I love having my own place. Somewhere where I can just relax and decompress. Do all of the little things that I enjoy.”

“Exactly.” Steve agrees with a bite full of toast.

You sneak a peek at your phone, seeing the time. “Oh man, I actually have to get going. I still need to grab a shower and get ready for work.” You gulp down the rest of your coffee before setting the mug down.

“You’re more than welcome to use my shower,” Steve offers, placing your mug in the sink.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have to go home anyway for clean clothes. Maybe next time.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?” Steve asks with a playful smile.

“I think you’ve earned it,” You tease with a wink.

You quickly gather all of your things and slide your shorts and shoes on. Leaning in, you place a quick kiss on his cheek. “I’ll call you.”

“Oh wait, let me get that.” Steve quickly brushes by you and punches in the key pad as you fiddle with your phone. You hear five tell tale beeps each time he hits a number. Maybe you should look into upping security in your apartment. You can never be too careful after all. The typical locks on your front door could easily be kicked in if someone is so inclined. And one of the locks on your window doesn’t even work. Definitely something worth considering.

The door beeps and Steve opens the door for you. You idly notice how thick and padded the door seems. His system must have cost a pretty penny.

You give him one last smile as you leave. “Goodbye, Steve.”

“Until next time, Y/N.”

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************

You try to stifle your giggles as Chloe continues to hound you for details through text message. Her use of vulgar GIFS almost sends you cackling in your office. You should just turn your phone off. Your boss had already gotten onto you for being a little late this morning. You didn’t feel like being lectured again. You focus on your laptop screen, answering emails to hopeful authors and going over book cover designs before you hear your phone vibrate again.

**_Chloe: So you fucked right? What are we dealing with? Uncircumcised? Hotdog with a bun? Does he KNOW what a clit is? TELL ME!!!!_ **

Checking to see if the coast is clear, you quickly type in a response.

**_You: lol stop. I’m at work now but I PROMISE we’ll talk as soon as I get off._ **

**_Chloe: Speaking of getting off…;)_ **

You laugh softly, setting your phone down to finally focus on your work. You still had several covers to finalize and a few manuscripts to proofread before they were sent out to print. You knew it was going to be a long day and you wished you’d gotten more sleep the night before. But lord was it worth it. You were so glad you gave Steve another chance. Any reservations you had about him, diminished after last night. And while you’re unsure if this thing was going to grow into anything past a casual physical friendship, you were deep down optimistic to find out. Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Your brows furrow together as you notice an error on one of your covers. You sigh as punch the numbers in your phone to Carol in the design department. It rings twice before you hear your coworker’s sweet Southern voice on the other end.

“Hey Carol, I told you Henry wanted the background for “A Killer Next Door” to be midnight blue. So why am I looking at a cobalt background?”

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Across town, Steve ducks to narrowly avoid a swift punch from his equally skilled sparring partner. Bucky grins and twists his torso to send his other arm hurtling towards Steve’s midsection. Steve tries to block the blow, but his parry barely affects the super soldier and he feels the metal hand collide harshly into his stomach. He hunches over from the blow, breathe temporarily knocked out of him.

“What’s wrong Steve? Getting old?” Bucky teases, shifting his weight between his legs as he waits for Steve to catch his breath. Steve straightens up and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“You’re older than me, Buck,” he affirms with a light punch to Bucky’s arm.

“And you’re distracted. What’s up?”

Steve grabs a towel and dabs at his face. “Nothing. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all.”

“Uh huh…” Bucky crosses his impressive arms and stares at him, unconvinced. Steve casually lifts a shoulder, unperturbed.

“I’m fine, Buck. Nothing’s going on.”

Bucky’s eyes crinkle for a brief moment as he tries hard not to smile. “You know…Sam mentioned you’ve been on your phone a lot lately. Bit out of the ordinary for you.”

“So what? _Everyone_ is on their phone this day and age.”

Bucky cocks his head, his eyes brimming with glee. “But not _you_.”

Steve sighs and throws the towel at his companion’s face. “Give me a break Bucky.”

“Who is she, Steve?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know I’ll find out eventually.”

“Alright, I think I’m ready for round two now.”

Bucky laughs as he takes a swig of water from his water bottle. “Changing the subject won’t work. Besides, Sam and the new recruits will be here any minute so we need to clear out. C’mon, let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about her.”

Steve rolls his eyes before shaking his head in rueful defeat. “Somehow, I always forget what a colossal pain in the ass you are.”

“And I’m damn good at it.” Bucky laughs as he claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder and the two men walk out of the training room.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Several hours later back at your apartment, you move the brush carefully over the canvas, mixing the established colors together to add subtle dimension. One of your favorite things about painting is the journey. Often times, a painting looks weird or off when you start. Splotches of color here and there or unrecognizable shapes in eccentric patterns. But the more you build and weave and blend, the more the picture comes into view. Unless you’re feeling particularly productive and paint for several hours at a time, you usually try to paint a little at least every other day. While you adore reading, you have to do it quite often for your job and so sometimes, it can leave you feeling very drained. But not painting. Painting seems to heal you. Any time you feel lost or overwhelmed, touching a brush to canvas just…calms you down. There’s no better way to interpret this.

You smile as you add a thin, fine line of white along the top of the woman’s painted red lips. A dash of white to her plump bottom lip for additional shine.

You yawn as you sit back, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand and eye the microwave clock. You should have been in bed hours ago. You foresee another long day of work tomorrow filled with copious amounts of coffee to keep you awake. But that was a problem for future you.

Your newest painting is of a pretty Spanish woman with long dark curls and wide brown eyes. They seem to stare up at you with mysterious intent, as though she knows one of your dirty little secrets. Perhaps she does.

Satisfied, you look over it with a grin. Just a few more touches, here and there. Smooth out the harsher lines of her hair and jawline and it’ll be finished. You hope to one day sell your paintings. Sure, you take commissions every now and again, but its certainly not enough to live on. And while you love your job as a production editor, you feel as though you want to dabble in your other passions too.

Maybe one day.

Yawning, you sneak a peek at your phone.

Still no word from Steve.

You feel a subtle pang in your heart as you stand to clean your brushes under the faucet. You shake your head as you run your fingers through the bristles and watch the colors bleed down the drain. _This is ridiculous. We only went on two dates. And we never discussed being exclusive. And you have ten other matches that you could be talking to._ So why was his silence bothering you so much?

As though on cue, you hear your phone go off across the room. You stub your toe painfully against the leg of a bar stool in your haste to grab it. Grimacing as you hobble on one foot, you peek down at the screen to see his name.

**_Steve: Hey! I’m sorry I haven’t messaged you all day. Had to train the new recruits. But…I just wanted you to know I had a great time last night. And if you’d like, I would love to get together again._ **

A swell of relief blooms in your chest as you force yourself to wait a couple of minutes before you reply.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Steve lays in his bed, holding his phone up as he watches the tell tale three dots blinking as you type out a message. He made sure to sleep on the side that you slept on the night before so he could drift off to the smell of you. That sweet subtle smell of marshmallows and cocoa. You must wear lotion, he muses. He would have to make sure to get your favorites for when you come to stay. The transition would go much smoother if you’re surrounded by familiar things.

Steve ponders over his earlier conversation with Bucky as he awaits your reply. He had been purposefully vague with his long time comrade, but told him just enough to show his excitement. His readiness to settle down. And while he did not appreciate the way Bucky’s eyes slid over your picture on Steve’s phone, he had kept his anger under control. It simply could not be helped. You were just naturally beautiful and captivating. And mysterious. The woman that captured the heart of Captain America.

He smirks contemptuously, thinking of all the ridiculous tabloids that would headline the story. The absolute _drivel_ that accounted for reported stories these days.

Finally, his phone pings in his hand as your message flashes on the screen.

**_Y/N: Sure, I’d like that. I have to work the next few days, but let me know what your schedule is for next week and we’ll plan something._ **

Steve lets out a quiet scoff of a laugh as he rereads your message. Clearly, you were trying to play it cool with him. Just as he was playing his part. Things were much simpler back in his time. None of this dancing around the subject. Or playing these ridiculous cat and mouse games. You were upfront with who you desired. You courted and then you married in the span of a few months. Steve was horrified when he learned most couples nowadays are engaged for several years. What on earth is the point of that? If you know, then why wait?

Steve sighs as he types back a quick reply.

_**Steve: Sounds good. Goodnight, Y/N.** _

With that, Steve places his phone on the nightstand and rolls over. He hears his phone go off again, but he doesn’t bother to look at it. It doesn’t matter now. He has you. Hook, line and sinker. He buries his face in your pillow as he inhales deeply. The sheets still smell of sweat and sex. It seems a crime that you’re not here with him now. Crying out in ecstasy as he fucks you over and over again. Simultaneously begging him to stop and yet pleading for more.

It won’t be much longer. Just a few more preparations.

And then you’ll never leave again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: The plot bunnies just won’t quit so here’s another part! Feedback is always appreciated and thanks so much for reading :D The fic is now caught up with what I already posted on Tumblr so there will probably be a bit of a wait for the next part FYI. There’s going to be a bit of a time jump in this part so I hope that’s conveyed well enough . As always mind the warnings. 
> 
> Contains: coercion, manipulation, blackmail, stalking, sexual content, dub con, non con, violence, kidnapping, unhinged possessive Steve Rogers

Steve wanders around your apartment with practiced ease, looking over every intimate piece of you. He’s not worried you’ll walk in anytime soon. He knows you won’t be home from work for another five hours. A small part of him is angry that you haven’t invited him over yet. You’ve been to his place many times now, and yet have still not extended an invitation. Why? How much longer will you continue to keep him at bay?

His keen eyes slide over your living room. Your books, with the weathered covers and folded edges. Your tacky yet endearing snow globes, mini statues of your favorite animals and tiny colorful vases with fake flowers. Your apartment lacks structure and yet it encompasses everything he loves about you. How unafraid you are to be truly you.

He envies you for that. Wants that for himself. Only you can see the real him. Only you _will_ see the real him. And love him all the more for it.

He picks up a small jade elephant from your bookshelf and turns it over in his hand with a frown. None of this will do for his place. But perhaps he can set aside a small space just for you? A little reading nook perhaps or art studio? That you could decorate all to your heart’s desire. With his supervision of course.

He sets it back down and walks over to your easel to see what you’re currently working on. He’s almost disappointed to see it’s not a portrait of him, but a new landscape painting of crashing waves against a dark cliffside. On the horizon is a sailboat and atop the cliff, stands a white light house.

He already ordered your favorite paints and brushes right down to the exact same brand. Even bought you a newer better easel. He couldn’t risk taking anything too big or noticeable right now. Lest you finally wise up and get that broken latch on the window fixed. No, right now he’s just learning everything he can about the woman he’s going to marry.

He swipes a finger across the bookshelf and notices a thin layer of dust. The crumbs still on the stovetop from yesterday’s meal. The clean yet unfolded laundry sloppily spilled onto the couch. Your cleaning skills leave much to be desired, he muses as he walks to your bedroom. But such things are easily corrected.

Steve pushes the door open and sighs at the crumbled sheets of your unmade bed. His eyes shift over and he smirks at the purple vibrator charging on your nightstand. The large bottle of lube next to it. Such a bad girl, making a mess on your sheets without him.

He walks over and fingers your bedding. A few tell tale stains near the center of the bed sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. Steve turns to open the top drawer of your dresser, revealing the colorful assortment of lace, cotton and silk. He thumbs through the contents until he picks out a pair of lace lavender boy shorts. He’d already seen you in them once before and thoroughly enjoyed the view. He lays back down on the bed, inhaling your scent as he unbuckles his jeans and pulls himself out. His mind is suddenly flooded with images of you. On all fours as he fucks you from behind. He didn’t even tear your panties off that time, just yanked them to the side as he drove into you.

Steve moans as he strokes his length to the rhythm of his fantasy’s undulations. The way you turned your head to look back at him. Begged him to fuck you harder. Cried out when he yanked your hair back.

His hand speeds up his movements and he bunches the lace panties against him. His breathing getting harder and more ragged as the fantasies flash by. Your lips around him. Choking on him. You pushed up against the tile wall of his shower as the steam fills the room. The way your eager cunt clenches around him. “Fuck,” he hisses as he spills into your panties, hips jerking up as his breathing slows down. He sighs, taking a moment to gather himself as he takes another cursory look around your room.

He didn’t want to risk taking too much more today. But soon he wouldn’t need to sneak in to truly see you. Soon you’ll let him in willingly.

Steve sits up, pocketing the soiled lace before leaving the room. Just before he leaves, he takes a look back at the jade elephant. He grabs it and leaves from your front door, locking it behind him and leaving no other trace of his presence.

******************************************************************************************************************************************

A few days later, you try to suppress your heavy breathing as you force your legs further up the trail. Your thighs and calves are screaming and sweat is pouring down your neck, despite the crisp morning air. About fifteen in front of you, Steve walks with an uncumbered gait, checking behind him occasionally to make sure you were still behind him. You adored hiking, but admittedly haven’t gone in six months. And boy, does it show. You were probably going to be sore for a good week after this.

“We’re almost there!” He calls back.

“Thank god,” You mumble under your breathe as you see the trees beginning to thin out ahead of you. Just a...few....more...steps.

Finally, you burst through the trees and you’re amazed at the beautiful view before you. You stand atop a cliff, looking out over the Hudson River, lined with rolling green hills. Steve stands near you with an expectant smile, gaging your reaction and you do all you can to hide your heavy breathing.

“Ya know...I’ve lived in New York for ten years now and I’ve never come here,” You admit, looking out over the water as a light breeze touches your face.

“I knew you’d love it. Sometimes...when I feel overwhelmed I like to come here and think.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Does it ever get difficult? Adjusting to everything I mean.”

Steve pauses for a moment, looking off to the right. You feel a cool breeze drift over the cliff and you shiver.

“Sometimes. A lot has changed. And yet a lot remains the same. There’s always another war. More fighting. More hate. Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

You see his hands clench into fists at his side and reach up to touch his shoulder. “Steve...you shouldn’t bear that burden. You’re a hero. You’ve saved so many people, but...you’re still just one man. You should be proud that you’re making a difference. _I’m_ proud of you,” you admit softly.

He finally turns to look at you and his eyes crinkle with warm affection. He reaches up to brush you cheek. “Since I’ve met you...it’s easy to forget. You...make me feel like I was really meant to be here.”

Your lips part, genuinely surprised by his admission. “Steve...”

“I mean it...I’m sorry if that’s too much, but it’s the truth.”

You smile as you lean forward, to place a soft kiss on his lips. “No it’s okay...I’m glad you told me.”

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

"How's your mom doing, by the way? Tell her I finished her salsa last week! It was so good. Damn, I should have brought the mason jar back so you could give it to her." Chloe says, leaning against your kitchen counter as she drains the last few drops out of her wine glass.

"Don't worry about it, she buys in bulk now. And she's doing great. I actually just talked to her a few days ago. She just picked her second batch of peppers and just planted her tomatoes. Wondering when I'm going to come visit. The usual."

"Oooo does this mean we'll get more homemade spaghetti sauce?" Chloe perked up, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

"Probably." You shrug as you open the bag of popcorn and pour it into a bowl. Chloe sidles up to you and bumps into your hip playfully.

"Hey, you should really think about going to visit her, you know. I wished my mom cared enough to give a rat's ass about me."

You sigh, shoulders slumping. "I know but...I just feel like she could come visit me sometimes, you know? She only lives an hour away. Why do I have to go to her every time?"

"Well, have you talked to her about this?"

"....Not really."

Chloe sticks out her tongue as she grabs another bottle of Moscato out of the fridge. "Then don't expect anything to change if you don't talk it over."

You laugh as you sprinkle salt over the popcorn and toss in some regular M&M's for some added sweetness. "Once again, I'm _baffled_ by your wisdom."

"I know right? Whatever would you do without me?" She replies in an over the top Southern accent.

"Probably just slip slowly into madne-" You halt as something catches your eye.

Your brows furrow into confusion as you stare at your bookshelf. You set the second bowl of popcorn on the table as you try to assess what’s off. Something is missing but you can’t put your finger on what exactly. It’s difficult to tell when so many things occupy your shelves other than just books. A familiar feeling of unease ripples through you. Chloe snaps her fingers in front of your face, halting your thoughts.

“Hello? You in there?” She asks as she shifts on your couch.

“Sorry, I was a little distracted. I keep feeling like I’m misplacing things. Little things. Like the other day, I couldn’t find my lotion. It was a near full bottle too. And then my favorite night shirt disappeared. I don’t know...it just feels like things are off here and I don’t know why.”

Chloe tilts her head up at you and gestures to the now empty bottle of wine in front of her. “Oh, that’s just the wine talking, hun. You’re probably just stressed from work.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You say uncertainly as you join her on the couch with more wine and snacks. She turns to you and you see the slight tinge in her cheeks and you know she’s feeling the wine.

“Ok seriously _explain_ something to me. You’re dating Captain fucking _America_. How are you _not_ shouting it from the rooftops?” Chloe asks as she leans over to refill both of your wine glasses. The pair of you are lounged in pajamas on your couch.

You lift your shoulder bashfully as you bring the glass to to your lips. “It’s only been two months, Chloe. We’re still just seeing where things go.”

“But it’s _exclusive_ , right? You’re not dating other people? You deleted your Tinder. You’ve been to his _apartment_ for Christ’s sakes. And yet you’ve posted no pictures or anything? Hell, I practically have to pull teeth to get you to tell me _anything_.”

You let out a little laugh, the subtle warmth from the wine and some much needed girl time bringing you some well deserved reprieve from a tough work week. “It’s nothing personal really, we just both like our privacy. Besides, I’ve shown you some good pictures.”

She waves you away, “Yeah, yeah yeah, some cute selfies of you two and his post workout pictures. Which are _great_ don’t get me wrong...I’m just surprised you’re staying so quiet about it.”

“I promise things are going great. I’m really happy. I guess I’m just...hesitant to gush about it. Like as soon as I get too excited, things will go wrong. Just give me a little more time.”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with being excited about a new relationship. Even if things don’t eventually work out, you should enjoy it while it lasts. Otherwise it’ll continue to be a cycle of self sabatoge where you push them all away and then its too late to fix it.”

You roll your eyes, but you know she’s a hundred percent right.

Chloe grins as she sets her glass on the table and picks out an M&M from the bowl. “You know what I think?” she asks impishly as she pops it into into her mouth.

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“I think it’s time to bring him over here. Let him into your space.”

You open your mouth to instinctively shut that idea down, but can’t find the words. Because secretly, you had been debating that exact thing.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

A week after your impromptu drunken sleepover with Chloe, you gesture to your apartment sheepishly as you let Steve in behind you. After several weeks of going to his place, it was about time he saw where you lived. He steps in after you, taking in your colorful, homey decor. Compared to his spacious loft, it’s cluttered with several of your paintings hanging on the walls and decorative knick knacks filling your shelves and counter tops. Every single thing in your apartment was hand picked by you. You’ve never been a fan of wide empty space or lack of color and your place certainly shows that.

“It’s not much...but it’s home,” you reply shyly as you look around.

Steve gives you a genuine smile as he wraps an arm around your waist and brushes his lips against your temple.

“It’s perfect. It’s warm...just like you.”

You lean into him, wrapping your arms around him and inhaling his scent. He makes you feel so safe.

You’re unaware that this is the seventh time Steve has been to your apartment.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Your fingers curl over your headboard as your eyes roll beneath fluttered eyelids. Your thighs tremble around Steve’s head as his talented mouth unravels you once more. His lips suck on your overstimulated clit and you cry out in ecstasy. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Steve...please...” You begin to lift up for a brief reprieve, but Steve quickly reaches up and grabs your hips and pulls you back down onto his face. His piercing blue eyes stare up at you dangerously.

“You’ve got a few more in you. And once you’re a weak simpering mess, I’m going to fuck you through the headboard.” Steve promises darkly as he trails his tongue purposefully through your soaked fold. You almost come from his words alone.

Later, you sit at your laptop, chewing your fingernail absentmindedly as you concentrate on the screen. Across the room, Steve reclines back on your couch.

“How much longer?” He calls out as he casually looks through Netflix to pick a movie.

“Give me ten more minutes. Just finishing up answering these emails,” you reply, your fingers rapidly dancing across the keys. “Why don’t you go ahead and make us some popcorn?”

Steve comes up behind you and kisses your bare shoulder tenderly. “I’m not hungry for popcorn.”

You giggle and push him away when he begins to push the strap of your tank top down. “You’re impossible.”

“I can’t help it. You’re so addicting.” His lips brush against your neck and his hands come up to pinch your nipples through your shirt.

“Steve...” you sigh as you lean back against your chair.

“C’mon,” he urges as he pulls your tank top down, exposing your breasts.

“Steve please...not now. I promise, once I’m done here, I’m all yours.” You promise as you adjust your clothes, your attention once again focused on the typed words in front of you.

Steve sighs and withdraws from you immediately. You don’t see the flash of anger that crosses his features. The way his jaw clenches or his fingers flex into fists at his sides.

“That’s what you said forty minutes ago,” he grumbles under his breathe as he stalks back to the couch.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

A few weeks later, you sit laughing with Steve at your favorite cafe. As usual, he dons a baseball cap and black framed glasses. Surprisingly, you’d only been approached by his fans a couple of times. You’ve assured Steve, you don’t mind and even that it’s a little exciting, like dating a celebrity. Essentially you are. But Steve never leaves the house now without his disguise and doesn’t like going to overly populated places at peak hours. You can’t say you don’t understand. Plus he pulls off the glasses very well so you can’t really complain.

“I _swear_ , it was the funniest thing. She sent me a fake cover to work on with the title “Finding Master Right“ by Ben Dover. I was so focused, it took me a good forty five minutes to realize it was a joke. I deserved it though. My dumbass didn’t even notice it was April Fool’s.”

Steve grins, taking a sip of his coffee. You take a small bite of your chocolate chip cookie. “What about you? Have the Avengers ever pulled any pranks on you? I bet you have the _best_ stories.”

He smirks as he leans back as he thinks. “There’s too many to count. There’s the time Thor placed his hammer on my shield and we couldn’t lift it. Tony even brought in three suits to try and pull it off but nothing worked. And then another time, I chastised them for cussing once and they’ve never let me live it down. Like I’m some strict old grandpa.”

“I mean...you kind of are,” You tease, offering him a bite of your cookie. He frowns at you, suddenly serious and perplexed.

“Does it bother you? That I’m so much older than you?”

“What? No, of course not. I was just joking, Steve. I wouldn’t be _dating_ you if so. And besides....you’re not like other grandpas.”

He grimaces at grandpa, but otherwise seems satisfied with your answer.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************

A few days later, you’re up late proofreading another manuscript when you hear your phone go off with a text notification. Yawning, you lean over to peek at your screen.

_**Steve: I’ve been thinking...we’ve been dating almost three months now.** _

You pause thinking over your whirlwind weeks of intoxicating sex, simple yet endearing dates, finally letting your walls down and flurry of warm fuzzy feelings. Your fingers type back a quick response.

_**Y/N: Oh yeah, that’s right! That’s crazy. It’s really flown by.** _

Less than a minute later, Steve replies.

_**Steve: I want to do something special.** _

You smile, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

_**Y/N: Oh? What did you have in mind?** _

_**Steve: Why don’t you come to my house tomorrow night? Let me cook you dinner.** _

Your heart swells at the prospect of an intimate dinner. As much as you tease Steve for being old fashioned, you can’t deny he can turn up the romance like no other.

**_Y/N: Well I’m certainly not one to turn down free food. Especially when Steve Rogers is cooking. I’ll make sure I have all my work finished before then._ **

**_Steve: It’s settled then. My loft at six. Wear something nice and pack an overnight bag._ **

“Oh?” you say aloud to yourself. As much as you love the whole “independent woman who can take care of herself” lifestyle, you would be lying if you didn’t secretly love when Steve takes charge. Whether when he’s fucking you or the subtle little commands like this.

**_Y/N: Sounds fun. Can’t wait._ **

You put your phone down and go to make a new pot of coffee. Might as well pull another all nighter. You plan to enjoy yourself tomorrow and would rather not be worried about playing catch up with work.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

The next night, you stand in Steve’s loft, inhaling the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen. Before you, the table is already beautifully set with flowers and candles. Steve comes up behind you, handing you a glass of Moscato. He’s wearing a tailored off white button up with the sleeves rolled up and dark pants. You’re practically salivating for _him_ as much as the food.

“Why, Steve are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?” He leans in and presses his lips to your cheek.

“Oh, absolutely,” you reply, setting your overnight bag on the counter. Steve slides his fingers across your waist and the small of your back. Tonight, you opted for your little black dress and your most comfortable pair of pumps.

“You look beautiful tonight.” You feel his reluctance to pull away as he steps away from you and gestures to the table. “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t you go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring you your plate.”

You do as he says, sitting down at the table with your wine and watch him work. You could certainly get use to this view. Steve Rogers cooking for _you_. Spoiling _you_. It really seems too good to be true sometimes. After a minute, Steve walks over with two plates and sets one before you. Carefully sliced baked herb chicken, asparagus and mashed potatoes. An off white gravy is drizzled over the meat and potatoes.

“Thank you. Everything looks wonderful,” You compliment as you set your napkin in your lap.

“I really hope you like it. I wanted to do something extra special tonight.”

“Well mission accomplished,” You say, not wasting anytime before cutting into your chicken and taking a small bite. The flavors of the chicken and gravy practically melt in your mouth and you moan softly with satisfaction. You scoop up a bite of mashed potatoes and relish the buttery creamy goodness.

“Are these homemade?”

“Oh yes. I don’t do anything _but_ homemade,” Steve smirks, taking a drink of his wine.

“I’m impressed. And this gravy? It’s not brown or chicken gravy. It’s different.”

“It’s a new recipe.”

“Wow...this is all really good. I’m going to have to steal this recipe from you.”

Steve smiles as he swallows a bite. “It’s yours.”

For the next couple of minutes, the pair of you eat in comfortable silence as you enjoy your meal. You had almost finished your plate, when Steve breaks the silence.

“Y/N.”

You pause as you look up at him. “Yes?”

Steve takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, before continuing. “For so long, I’ve been looking for someone...to share my life with. I had almost given up on finding love altogether. Until I met you. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. In a _partner_.”

Surprised, you say nothing. Your heartbeat flutters and you clear your throat quietly, unsure where he’s going with this.

Steve stands up and walks slowly towards you. Removing a small velvet box from his pocket. Your eyes widen as everything begins to click into place.

“Steve....”

“I know it may seem kind of fast, but when you know...you know. There’s no need to wait when you know you’ve already met your soul mate. So Y/N...” He kneels next to you and opens the box before you. “Will you marry me?”

You gasp, practically choking on air as you stare down at the beautiful ring. A large princess cut diamond with a thin band. But inside, you feel anything but elation.

“Steve...are you _serious_?”

“I’ve never been more serious.”

“Steve...it’s beautiful...and I’m so flattered but...it’s **_way_** too soon. We really don’t even know each other.”

“Do you love me?”

You clear your throat, feeling a subtle tickling sensation. You take a drink of wine, the food sitting heavily in your stomach. The air around you suddenly feels stifling and suffocating. “I...I’m not sure. I really care about you. But love? That takes time.”

“ I’ve waited over fifty years, Y/N. I’m tired of waiting. I love you. This is what I want.”

“I’m sorry Steve, but...the answer is no.” Your stomach churns with embarrassment and thick awkward tension fills the air. Your skin feels scalding and itchy and you reach up to scratch your neck. Steve sighs and slowly stands, closing the box and setting it on the table before you.

“I was _so_ hoping it wouldn’t come to this.” His expression is blank, yet his bright blue eyes stare down at you expectantly. As though he’s waiting for something.

“Hoping it wouldn’t come to wha-” Your words falter as you begin coughing, your tongue suddenly feeling thick and heavy. Your eyes bug out when you realize what’s happening. You point to the near empty plate in front of you.

“Peanuts...” you wheeze.

The corners of Steve’s mouth slide into an uncharacteristic sneer. “Peanut oil, actually. In the gravy.”

You feel your throat begin to close and you quickly stand to lurch for your bag on the counter, only for Steve to beat you to it. He swiftly grabs your EPI pen and holds it just out of your reach. He places a hand where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Oh _sweetheart_...you don’t look so good. Do you need this?” His tone is coldly condescending and it terrifies you.

“Steve _please_!” You rasp desperately as you swipe at his outstretched hand. It’s getting harder to breathe by the second. Sheer panic courses through your veins.

“I’ll give you this...if you say yes. Quickly now, you don’t want anaphylactic shock to go untreated for too long.”

You grab at your throat, tears springing to your eyes. Your skin is itching so badly, you want to tear it off. The pain in your chest is being stretched and pulled in every direction. Your ragged gasps for air don’t even sound human anymore. But the worst of it is the raw encompassing _fear_. You focus on the Epi pen just out of reach.

You don’t want to die. That much is clear.

You drop to your knees, clawing at your throat as the edges of your vision begin to blur.

You manage to choke out a single “Yes” before you fall back and your world goes black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Welp poor reader is in for it now! Thanks so much for all the love and feedback for this crazy little fic. I can’t wait to see how everything unravels from here. Thanks for reading!

_Ding._

_Ding._

_Ding._

_Ding._

You groan as the inconsistent pinging continues, gradually rousing you from the hazy blackness. You roll your head to the side as your eyes slowly open. You see your phone sitting on the nightstand just out of reach, with several notifications glowing on the screen. Your head is pounding and your throat is dry. The skies outside are pitch black and the room you’re in is illuminated only by two lamps on either nightstand. But even in your groggy state, you can recognize your surroundings with a terrifying clarity.

You look down and see that your right arm has wrapping around the elbow and you feel a cold, unfamiliar weight on your left hand. Hesitantly, you raise it in front of your face, sickened to find the ring you had rejected sitting firmly on your finger. As though it was meant to be there.

“Oh good, you’re awake. You gave me quite a scare there.”

Steve walks into the room wearing a warm smile on his face. An expression you now know, is a deceptive mask. He moves to stand by your side, towering over you as he gently brushes hair out of your face.

“You’ve been out for a couple of hours. How do you feel?”

You look up touch at him in disbelief. He really is acting as though he didn’t essentially poison you. You slowly sit up, keeping wary eyes trained on him.

“Drained,” You reply in a clipped tone.

Steve nods, still wearing that damn unperturbed smile. “Well, you _did_ suffer a near fatal allergic reaction. But don’t worry. After I administered the epinephrine and performed CPR, I gave you an IV of antihistamines and cortisone. You should make a full recovery. We’ll just have to be _extra_ careful from now on, won’t we?”

You shake your head, finally summoning the words you want to say. “You…you tried to _kill_ me.”

“Kill you?” He moves to sit on the edge of the bed next to you and you shrink away. “Why on earth would I do that? I _saved_ you, sweetheart.” He reaches up to touch your face and you jerk away.

“Don’t you _touch_ me.”

“I understand you’re upset. You’ve been through _quite_ the ordeal. But you should really calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm _down_?! I will _not_ calm down. I almost _died_ because of you. You don’t _get_ to play hero now. No, fuck you and _take_ your ring back. I want _nothing_ more to do with you.” You exclaim vehemently, as you twist the ring off your finger and slam it onto the nightstand beside you. Steve calmly looks down at the ring and lets out an exasperated sigh. As though you’re being the unreasonable one. The smile finally leaves his face for a brief moment.

“You should put your ring back on, sweetheart. And relax, before you say something you’ll regret.”

“You’re not _listening_ to me. I’m _not_ marrying you, Steve.”

He raises a brow. “Oh no?”

You raise your chin and glare squarely at him. “ _No_. In fact…I _never_ want to see you again after this.”

Steve merely lifts one shoulder, not seeming the least bit bothered by your declaration, as he reaches on the nightstand to grab your phone. His thumb taps the screen with ease.

“You know, you should _really_ consider changing your passcode. I mean really, Y/N? Your mother’s birthday? You couldn’t have _picked_ a more obvious passcode.” He winks as his thumb brushes across the screen, taking you to your home screen and you feel a heavy weight shift in your stomach. “But don’t worry, I already went through the trouble of changing it for you.”

Your brows furrow together and anxious fingers curl tightly into the blanket draped over you.

“You see the problem is, once you’re able to unlock someone’s phone…it’s like you hold their _entire_ life in your hands. All of their text messages, social media accounts…emails…even their _bank_ information. All saved on this tiny device. Accessed with just a swipe of a finger.”

“W-what’s your point?” You whisper, though you feel an icy dread slowly seeping into your veins. Your phone dings with another text notification and Steve chuckles.

“Everyone wants to talk to you. They’re not too happy that they had to find out this way.”

“What the hell are you _talking_ about?”

“Our engagement, of course,” Steve replies, matter of factly. “Now…lets check Facebook, shall we?”

He pulls up your profile and holds the screen inches from your face. A wave of nausea rolls over you. There’s 2 new pictures on your profile. One is one of the selfies on your phone that you never posted where you and Steve stand cheek to cheek on one of your hiking excursions. The other is a close up picture of your hand, stacked on top of Steve’s. The engagement ring on your ring finger. You squint as you can make out the corner of the bed you’re currently lying in on the side of the picture. He had taken it while you were _unconscious_.

Your status read:

**_When you know, you know! He asked And I said yes! I promise we’ll share our story soon! Love you all <3 _ **

“Oh my god,” you gasp, putting your hand over your mouth. There were almost a hundred comments. All expressing congratulations and begging for details.

“Shall we see Instagram too?” Steve drawls in a bemused tone as he clicks on the Instagram app. The pictures and status under your profile are the exact same. This one also already has several excited comments. You shake your head, horrified by this shocking revelation. Your phone goes off yet again.

“Your mother and Chloe are really determined to talk to you. Maybe if you prove that you can be trusted, I’ll allow you to talk to them soon. Until then…” He pockets the phone in his pocket. “I’ll be handling all communications.”

“I’ll just delete everything. Say it was a stupid joke.”

“I already told my buddy Tony, who is having his people plan our engagement party as we speak. Journalists have already started calling for the details of our whirlwind love.”

“You _can’t_ think any of this will hold up. I’ll tell everyone the truth.”

“Will you? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the elated fiance of Captain America. A beloved _hero_. Who would possibly believe _you_ over me?”

“You can’t do this, Steve. I don’t _want_ to marry you.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he raises a hand to touch your chin. “Yes you do. I could have anyone, Y/N. But I chose _you_. I can make you so _happy_. And you’re going to make _me_ so happy.”

You blanche as you shove his hand away. “You….you’re _crazy_.”

Steve tilts his head, “Now, that’s not a very nice thing to say to your fiance.”

“You’re **_not_** my fiance.”

“But I am. And you’re _mine_.”

“No. I’m leaving. _Right_ now.” You throw the covers off of you, disgusted to see that you’re now wearing one of Steve’s shirts rather than the dress you had been wearing earlier. How many different ways had he _violated_ you while you were out?

Steve smirks and stands to lean against the wall, while doing nothing to stop you. But you’re too focused to leave to dwell on this. You don’t even care that you’re barefooted and barely clothed. You just need to get the fuck _out_. You stomp past him, down the hall and into the main area. You see your overnight bag, still on the counter and grab it, throwing the long strap onto your shoulder. You hear Steve emerge from the hall and stop a few feet behind you but you don’t bother acknowledging him before turning towards the door. You feel your blood freeze as you’re faced with a terrifying realization.

The heavy door. The key pad.

You angrily turn to face him. “Give me the code, Steve.”

He says nothing, merely tilts his head and crosses his arms across his broad chest.

“Steve, I’m not fucking playing. _Give_ me the fucking code!”

“Watch how you _speak_ to me,” He warns softly and you see his jaw clench.

“Fuck you! Let me out _now_!” You spin around and begin mashing the buttons desperately. Five…there were five numbers. That you can recall. Five beeps. Fuck! Why had you never paid attention before? You give up and just start pounding on the door. “Help! _Help_! Someone please help me!”

“No one can hear you, Y/N,” Steve utters calmly behind you, now standing much closer than he was before. You ignore him, continuing to pound on the door with clenched fists. “Let me out of here!! _Please_! I’m being held captive!!”

“The walls are soundproof. Expensive, but worth it.”

You let out a loud scream, shrill and visceral. You’re certain someone heard it. They _had_ too.

This goes on for several more seconds before Steve finally intervenes, wrapping one muscular arm around you and clamping one hand over your mouth. He pulls you back from the door and presses his mouth to your ear. “Are you finished? Or do you want to talk this over like adults?”

You struggle in his grasp, gnashing your teeth to try and bite his hand. But his fingertips dig painfully into your jaw, preventing you from opening your mouth.

“Now now…none of that. Why don’t you come back to bed? You’ve had a long and _trying_ day. You really need to rest. We can sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Mmph!” Your muffled cries go unnoticed and he begins dragging you back down the hall. You buck and kick your legs out, dragging your heels against the hardwood floor. Fight to free your arms from his iron grip. But your efforts are futile and Steve effortlessly pulls you back into his room. He shoves you back down on the bed, pinning you down with one strong hand clenched at your throat and leans down to bring his face mere inches from yours.

“You better calm down. I’d hate to have to sedate you on our first night as an engaged couple but…I _will_.”

Consequences be damned, you screech like a banshee and raise your hands to claw at his face, neck, arms, anything you can get your hands on. You want to draw blood. You want it to _hurt_. Steve quickly steps back to avoid your flailing limbs and looks at you with a disappointed expression.

“Clearly, you need some more time to sleep on it.” And procures a needle with a cap from his back pocket. You can see it’s already filled with a clear liquid and you crawl backwards on the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” You snarl, preparing to kick him squarely in the face.

He merely chuckles before swiftly snatching your ankle and yanking you towards him. You raise your hands to try and fight him off with everything you have, but to your dismay, he easily subdues you. Pinned down beneath half of his body weight and his elbow in your chest, he pulls the cap off with his teeth and you feel a prick in your neck. You feel a lone tear slide down the side of your face as your limbs begin to feel heavy and weak.

Steve brushes the tear away with a concerned expression. “This won’t put you under completely. It’s just to help you relax. In the morning, you’ll feel good as new.”

You let out a pitiful sob as you feebly try to hit him, but your limbs remain uncooperative as the sedative spreads. Soon, you’re unable to offer any resistance as Steve pulls down the covers to tuck you in. Manipulating your body every which way, like an oversized doll. You barely feel his hands on you but you sense _everything_. And you can do _nothing_ to stop it.

And just when you think your nightmare has reached a reprieve, Steve slides into the bed next to you and turns the lamps off. You stare up at the ceiling, barely illuminated from the city lights outside the windows. You let out a quiet whine when he rolls you into your side and presses his body against you. His bare arm wraps around your waist and you know he’s at least shirtless. You silently beg for sleep to quickly overcome him. But when his hand drifts up under the shirt he dressed you in and brushes against your chest, it seems your prayers are ignored.

“You looked so beautiful earlier. Laying in my bed…where you belong. Don’t worry…I only touched a little.” Steve purrs in your ear as he gropes your breasts. Grinding his pelvis against you.

“I won’t fuck you tonight. But you should know how difficult it is for me to stay away from you.” Steve continues as his hand leaves your body to wrap around his cock and he begins stroking himself. Brushing the hard tip against your back.

“This is what you do to me,” He moans huskily against your neck. You clench your jaw as the tears silently roll down your cheeks. You finally manage to drift off to the sound of Steve’s lewd panting in your ear.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

When you finally awaken the next morning, sunlight is already streaming through the windows. Mercifully, the bed is empty next to you, but you can hear Steve pattering in the kitchen. The events of the previous night hit you and you push your hand up to your mouth to stifle your strangled cry. Frantic eyes dart around for any signs of your phone, or any phone for that matter. But of course, you see nothing to help you.

Trapped. You were trapped. _Kidnapped_ really. Hostage. Victim. The words you never thought would be used to describe you, run through your mind as you rub your bare arms with shaky hands. The ring is back on your finger and you want nothing more than to tear it off and flush it down the sink. But you can’t. Right now, you have to be calm. Right now, you have to be cool and collected. You close your eyes and breathe deeply, summoning all of your courage to get out of bed and face your tormentor. Your _jailor_.

Your light footsteps pad down the hall and you see Steve, spooning out some scrambled eggs onto two plates. He looks up and smiles and the sight of him being so….domestic and casual both unnerves and pisses you off.

“Good morning, sweetheart. I hope you like your eggs scrambled.”

“They’re fine.”

He nods and puts forks on the plates before picking them up and approaching you. “Now normally, I’d expect you to cook for us, but I wanted to do something nice for my fiance.” You bristle at the title and sexist implications. _How had he managed to hide himself so well? How had you not seen it?_

Steve sets the plates at the table and gestures to you to sit. You silently comply, but look at the food warily. He notices your hesitance and laughs. “No peanuts this time, I promise.”

You nod, choosing to opt for the much safer toast as you take a small bite. Your inner turmoil writhing in your stomach has virtually removed your appetite. Steve pauses with his fork raised and raises a brow at you.

“Don’t you want to say thank you for breakfast?”

With difficulty, you swallow a bite of buttered toast before mumbling, “Thank you.”

The next few minutes go by in agonizing silence as you try to eat and move things around on your plate. Steve seems to pay you no mind, clearly enjoying himself. And why shouldn’t he? He got what he wanted.

“Well, I better be off,” Steve finally breaks the silence as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. He stands, stretching and grabbing his plate. “I have to report in and make a couple of appearances.” He winks at you. “Everyone’s dying to get a look at you, but I told them you needed some time to adjust to everything. Being engaged to an Avenger can be difficult. Just ask Pepper.” He laughs to himself as he crosses to the kitchen.

You stand, eager to stop him and yet you despise being so close to him.

“Steve…please…” You reach up and touch his arm. “You can’t _keep_ me here. I have a job. I have family…friends. I have a _life_.”

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Steve exclaims entirely too jovial as he sets his empty mug on the counter. “I went to the liberty of emailing your boss last night, requesting that you work from _home_ from now on. So you can focus on the wedding planning.”

You gasp and take a step back. “You’re lying. They would never accept that out of the blue like that. Through an _email_.”

Steve grins widely at you, “You still haven’t learned just how much pull being associated with me gets. But you will.”

You lean back against the counter in quiet despair as Steve casually puts his dishes in the sink. Your heavy heart sinking lower and lower in your chest.

“And as for your loved ones…how often you get to speak to them? How much time you get to spend with them?” He raises his head and gives you an amused smile. “That’ll be _entirely_ up to you.”

When you say nothing, he raises a hand and strokes your cheek. “I’d hate to leave you sweetheart, but duty calls. I _trust_ you’ll be on your best behavior.”

You say nothing, merely nod with what you hope is a demure expression. Your eyes glazed and focusing on a spot in the corner. You can’t even bear to look at him.

“There’s my girl,” Steve says as he bends down to kiss your cheek. You allow him, tilting your cheek up toward him.

“I should only be gone for few hours. There’s plenty of books and movies to occupy yourself with. And I picked up some paint supplies for you if the muse strikes. You’ll find them in the spare closet. And for dinner? How about some spaghetti?” He questions, though it sounds like more of a demand than a suggestion.

“Yes, Steve.”

“Oh…and if you have any thoughts of trying to figure out the code to the keypad…? It notifies me _every_ time someone enters in the code wrong. But you’re welcome to try. There’s only 90,000 possible combinations.” He leans down to whisper in your ear. “But you should know that every time I get notified…well…let’s just say there will be consequences.”

You feel your hair stand on end at his ominous threat. Your lips part and the words leave you before you can stop them. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles, “Let’s hope you never have to find out. Now…be a good girl and maybe you’ll get a treat tonight.” He turns his back to you as he punches in the five numbers to the lock. The five numbers to your salvation. His body is too broad for you to see any part of the keycode and you wouldn’t be able to see unless you were standing right next to him. Which of course, is exactly what he was planning on. You force yourself to remain where you are as he swings the door open. There’s no use in trying to run. You wouldn’t even be able to get by him, much less take three steps before he yanks you back in.

The door slams shut behind him and you’re left all alone. You listen carefully for his footsteps down the hall as you immediately take the ring off with disgust and set in on the counter. But you hear nothing, which is equally unnerving. As much as you want to immediately begin your attempts to escape, you need to make sure he’s actually gone. You force yourself to get a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water to quench your parched throat. Watching the clock on the stove. Fifteen minutes. You’ll wait fifteen minutes and not a second longer.

You use this time to map everything out. Trying to find something. _Anything_ than can help you escape. You tear into all four bedrooms. Each one immaculate and clutter free and you make sure to leave them as such as you search. There are no phones. No laptops or computers that you can get to to get online. No means to even try to defend yourself. Steve had certain drawers locked in the kitchen, which you assume contains knives and other sharp utensils. But at least he left a box of plastic utensils on the counter if you get hungry and need to fix something. You roll your eyes and fight the urge to launch the small box across the apartment.

When you look up at the stove clock, you realize that its been longer than fifteen minutes. Wasting no more time, you pick up one of the wooden chairs and slam it hard against one of the large windows in the main area. To your horror, it bounces off harmlessly, not even leaving a scratch. You let out a scream of frustration and drop the chair to start banging on the thick glass with your bare hands. After several seconds of venting your anger, your eyes focus down. Other apartment buildings in your view. Not directly next to you but near enough that their windows can see you. A lightbulb goes off in your head.

If you can’t break the glass to get anyone’s attention…you could write a message. Or rather _paint_ one.

You immediately run to the closet in one of the spare bedrooms and fling the door open. Sure enough, there’s a bag from Michaels sitting on the shelf. You grab it and open it up to see a plastic case full of small unopened acrylic paint tubes, two packs of small brushes and some canvases. Thinking quickly, you run to your overnight bag, knowing you always keep a spare pen on you. Since Steve left you with no sharp objects, you’d have to make due with this to open the paint.

You spend the next several minutes, poking holes into the seals of every single tube. He said he would be gone for a few hours, but he may not have been telling the truth. And you don’t want to chance it. Finally, once all of the paint is open, you gather them all up and move into the living area. You pull up the chair right next to one of the large open windows and move to stand on it. Squirting paint in your hand, you smear a wide messy message across the entire window. The letters had to be wide enough to be seen from a quarter of a mile away, so you didn’t even bother opening the brushes. After several minutes, you step down off the chair to admire your scrawled backwards message.

**SOS HOSTAGE CALL 911**

Satisfied, you move into the bathroom to get changed and cleaned up. Washing the multicolored paint wash down the sink puts a small smile on your face. You did it. Soon someone will see your message and call the police. They will come find you and break down the door. Soon you’ll be free.

Once your hands and arms are paint free, you quickly change into the denim shorts and orange top you had pack in your bag. You make sure all of your things are packed up for once you’re rescued. You don’t bother cleaning up all of your discarded paint tubes. What’s the point?

Eyeing the clock, you note its a little after noon. Letting out a sigh, you sink into the couch. Your legs bouncing with nervous energy. Now all you had to do was wait. Unable to stand the suffocating silence anymore, you grab the remote and turn the TV on. Some cheesy soap opera is on and you don’t bother changing it. You’re not really watching it anyways. Any minute now you will hear the sirens outside. Any minute, someone will come for you.

_Any minute…_

_Any minute…_

_Any minute…_

You’re not sure when you fell asleep but the telltale sounds of the keypad going off jolts you awake. You shoot up from the couch just as Steve walks into the loft, letting the heavy door swing shut behind him.

“Well…it seems you’ve had a busy day.” He muses, not sounding the least bit surprise as his eyes slide over your messy handiwork. He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Aw look at that. You’ve ruined all of your new paints. And left _quite_ a mess.” He chides, setting his keys on the counter.

You feel your eyes water in frustration. Your message was there for hours and yet no one came. The police was never called. No one cared.

“Ohhh sweetheart…are you disappointed?” Steve questions in a feigned concerned tone as he approaches you. You take a few steps back to give him a wide berth, though he makes no move to challenge you. Merely moves to stand by the marked window and taps on the glass with his knuckles.

“Solar window tinting. The sun reflects back like a mirror rather than anyone seeing in without darkening the glass.” He explains as he turns to look down at you with a smug smile.

“I told you…I like my privacy.”

Steve takes a slow step towards you, his handsome face now serious and intense and you put your hands up in panic, backing up.

“Steve…”

“I knew it was going to be an adjustment…”

“Steve please…”

You feel your back hit a wall and Steve looms over you.

“But I had such high hopes for you.”

“Don’t hurt m-” Before you can finish your sentence, Steve quickly grabs your shoulders and spins you around to roughly pin you against the wall. You yelp and struggle against him but you may as well be trapped between two brick walls.

“This was a test…and you failed. I’m sorry sweetheart, but you’ll have to be punished…so you’ll learn.” He purred in your ear, not sounding the least bit sorry. His large, solid body was pressed against you and he drags his fingers down your waist. “Shhhh, it’s ok. It’s for your own good. You’ll see.” He grinds his hips into you and you feel your stomach curl with disgust. Steve gently brushes his lips against your temple.

“But first…clean this mess up.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I just want to say I love writing scary Steve >:D He’s way too much fun and a real sonofabitch in this. Thanks to everyone’s support and continued encouragement. I really love reading the comments and reactions. They give me life. As always mind the warnings lovelies!
> 
> Contains: language, coercion, manipulation, blackmail, stalking, sexual content, dubcon, noncon, violence, kidnapping, hostage, forced relationship, psychological torture, claustrophobia, confined in small spaces, unhinged possessive Steve Rogers
> 
> Word Count: 3.6k

The tension in the air is thick as you silently scrub the window clean. A few feet away, Steve sits nonchalantly on the couch, reading a book. Occasionally, his blue eyes shift to you but otherwise he doesn’t engage with you. The dread bubbles in your gut as you ponder what his _punishment_ could possibly be. In the past twenty four hours, he’s tried to kill you only to save you and trap you in his apartment. All the while, the rest of the world believes you’re in a happy, loving engagement with him. _What more could he possibly do to you?_

A few minutes later, you climb down from the chair and move it back to its proper place at the table. You sweep your arm across the counter and knock the empty paint tubes into the trashcan and wipe the counter clean of any paint that had dribbled out. Once you’re done, you remain standing by the counter, fingers nervously squeezing the marble edges. You don’t want to draw any attention to yourself. Unfortunately, Steve takes notice moments later.

“Done already?” He looks up with an unnervingly calm smile as he closes his book and stands up. You nod, pulse racing with anxiety.

“Good. Now follow me.”

You hesitate, but reluctantly follow him. You can’t fight him and you have nowhere to go. Prolonging this any further will only earn his ire. You trail behind him down the hall, back to his bedroom and you pause in the door, hand on the frame. Steve turns to look back at you with a raised brow and you let out a shaky exhale as you take a few steps in to stand in front of him.

“Now you know you were bad, right?”

“.....Yes.”

“And you should be punished, right?”

“Steve please-”

“Ah-ah-ah, _right_?”

“Yes.”

“Good...now get on your knees and ask for my forgiveness.”

Your nails bite into your palms as you slowly sink to your knees. Steve towers over you, radiating raw power and quiet intimidation. He raises his chin expectantly, piercing eyes staring down at you, and you summon the words you imagine he wants to hear.

“Please...forgive me Steve. I promise I...won’t try that again.”

He smirks and reaches out to cup your jaw. “I know you won’t. But you look so pretty when you beg.” To your disgust, he rubs his other hand over the front of his jeans. His noticeable erection is mere inches from your face.

“If you’re _really_ sorry...you’ll let me fuck that pretty mouth.”

A bout of nausea clenches your stomach and you nervously lick your lips. “I don’t...I-”

His fingers tighten on your jaw and his eyes narrow slightly. Such a subtle difference yet the sight sends a tremor of fear down your spine. You close your eyes and let out a quiet sigh as you reach up to release him with shaky fingers. Steve lets go of you and helps push his jeans and boxer briefs down slightly and his cock springs out. Not wanting to earn anymore of his unpredictable wrath, you lean in with parted lips and trail your tongue over the tip. Steve lets out a lusty moan and you feel the heat of his stare as he watches you work. But your gaze remains straightforward, focused on the patch of blonde hair below his belly button. Relaxing your jaw, you take more of him in and his fingers lovingly petting the back of your head.

“I love you like this. On your knees taking me in your mouth like a _good_ girl.”

The hand at the back of your suddenly grips your hair tightly and shoves you down further until your nose brushes against his pelvis. Your startled cries are muffled and you reach up to grab his hips to steady yourself. You gag around him and Steve lets out a satisfied groan as he begins thrusting into your face. You’re trapped between his merciless grip and his cock.

_Just go numb. Just go numb. Relax and he’ll be done with you soon. Relax._

It repeats like a mantra in your head until it drowns out the wet sloppy sounds coming from your mouth and Steve’s lewd panting. You practically go limp and let him carry on using you. Keeping your jaw relaxed as he hammers down your throat. Saliva pools down your lips and you feel strands of your hair threatening to be ripped out of your scalp. After what seems like an eternity, Steve cries out and spills deep into your throat, though he doesn’t immediately let you go. He smirks down at you, mouth still stuffed to the brim.

“You will swallow every drop and _then_ I’ll release you.”

With a little difficulty, you swallow around him until everything is gone. Finally satisfied, he lets you go and tucks himself away. You wipe your mouth and sit back on your legs, unsure of your next actions.

“While you’re down there...why don’t you flip that small latch on the base of my bed?” Steve suggests, his lips curling into a knowing smile.

Your brows furrow together as you lean over, running your fingers along the wooden base of his bed. Sure enough, there’s a tiny latch near the corner and your fingers flip it.

“Good. Now the other, towards the top,” Steve instructs and you feel his heated gaze following you as you slowly crawl towards the opposite end of the bed and find the second latch. _What is this? Why is he making you do this?_

You do as he says then sit back on your knees, unsure of what you’re supposed to next. Steve steps forward and bends down, sliding his hand along the base. You watch as he curls his fingers into the top of the wood plank and with a swift yank, he removes it and moves to lean it against the wall. Something lays under the bed, but you can’t tell what it is. Only a single long handle offers any clues.

“Pull on the handle,” Steve commands softly above you.

You let out a shaky breath before grabbing the handle with both hands. Straining slightly, you pull hard and you feel whatever it is give and a large box slides out across the floor. You drop the handle and slowly stand, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. The box is the length of the bed, yet it only three feet wide. Towards the top is a tiny open square crisscrossed with wire. Like a _pet crate_.

Your brows crinkle with confusion as you raise your head to meet Steve’s eye.

“What...what _is_ this?”

His eyes crinkle with unnerving glee. “I call it the Box.”

You gasp and take a step back, shaking your head.

“Open it.”

“I..I don’t want to.”

“ _Open_ it.”

You flinch when he takes a quick step towards and you immediately move to comply. The lid isn’t heavy and it swings open with little difficulty. Inside, the interior is lined with padding and satin. Like a _coffin_.

You let out a choked sob as everything clicks together with horrifying clarity. Panicked, you back away only to bump into Steve’s broad chest. His hands come up to rest on your shoulders and your whole body begins to tremble. “The next time you decide to test my patience or attempt to escape...I want you to remember the Box.” He warns calmly as his fingers trace tiny circles across your skin.

You feel a tiny spark of hope as you nod fervently. “I will. I promise I won’t try to escape again.”

“That’s my good girl. Now get in.”

All of the air rushes out of your lungs and your stomach plummets. You go rigid beneath his hands. “But...I thought you forgive me.”

“I _do_ forgive you. But you still need to be punished, sweetheart. For your own good. To learn your proper place.”

You shake your head in dismay. “No no no no don’t do this. Don’t put me _in there_!!” You beg as you begin struggling in his grip. But his hands clamp down and he begins to push you down. You twist beneath his fingers and your knee bangs painfully into the corner of the box.

“Shh shh shh, you were doing so well...” Steve utters as he effortlessly wrestles you down into the box. Your back hits the cushioned satin and flailing hands reach up to claw his eyes. He slams the lid down on top of you and holds it down as he slides the box back under the bed. You scream and push up against the lid, but it only budges an inch before hitting the bottom of the bed above you. You’re completely trapped. Steve places the plank back into place and you’re shrouded in darkness.

“Let me _out_ of here!!”

“Hush. This will be good for you. I want you to take this time to really think about what kind of wife you want to be. Be good to me...and I’ll be good to you. Simple as that.” Came his muffled reply.

“ ** _Steve_ _!!”_**

"The sooner you learn, the sooner I’ll let you out.”

But you don’t stop screaming. Even when you hear his retreating footsteps, the five piercing beeps of the keypad and the heavy door closing behind him.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Panting, Steve raises his arms and folds them atop his head as he continues walking down the path. Bucky cools down next to him, rolling his sculpted shoulders. The two super soldiers pause next to a park bench and start to stretch after an intense run.

“So when are we actually going to get to _meet_ her?”

Steve shrugs as he takes a large gulp from his water bottle. “We’re just enjoying each other right now. She’s a little shy so we want to make sure she’s prepared for everything.”

“What about when she goes to work? Didn’t you tell me she works at a publishing office or something?”

“Yeah, she’s a production editor, but she recently started working from home so she’s not harassed when she goes out.”

“Ok, that’s all well and fine punk but you’ve been with this woman for _months_. Now you’re _engaged_ and we don’t know a thing about her. We want to get to know her too.”

Steve’s fingers clench around his water bottle for a split second, but he relaxes and lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re right Buck. It’s time she meets my friends. Tell you what man, why don’t you come over for dinner?”

Bucky perks up as he stretches his hamstrings. “Sounds good, what time should I be over?”

“Oh not tonight. She’s swamped right now with work. But how about...in two weeks? Around the sixth. That work for you?” _Two weeks should give him plenty of time to have you trained._

Bucky nods, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Sure, that suits me. Long as Fury doesn’t send us out.”

Steve pulls an arm across his chest, then the other. “Well, I put in to hang back. Reconnaissance only.”

Bucky raises his brows in surprise. “Really? Steve _Rogers_ deciding to take a back seat? Never thought I’d see the day.”

Steve grins as he stretches his calves against the bench. “Things are different now.”

“I’ll say. So when is the rest of the team meeting her? You know they’re just chomping at the _bit_ to see her.”

“Probably the engagement party.”

“Oh no, don’t do _that_ to the poor girl. She’ll be swarmed.”

“She’ll be fine. I’ll help her get adjusted.”

“Whatever you say.” Bucky says, unconvinced as he checks his watch. “ I gotta head out. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya, Buck.”

The two men part ways and Steve swings his car keys around his finger as he whistles. You’d been in the Box for a few hours now. He should probably let you out. He pauses and looks around as a smirk forms on his face. Then again, he _had_ been wanting to try that new pretzel place.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

You stopped screaming after a few minutes. Or maybe it was longer. Time is impossible to track when alone and completely surrounded by darkness. Then came the tears endlessly streaming down your face. The broken desperate sobs like a dying animal. You tried to calm yourself down by singing. It was a habit, you had picked up from your mother. She would pick you up whenever you were upset and sing soft lullabies. And when you were too big to pick up, she’d lay your head in her lap as she pet your hair. And you repaid that in kind when your father passed and she no longer seemed to care about anything.

But after a few songs, your throat began to hurt and you decide to stay quiet. That was when the voices started. Your own voice judgmental and cruel, melting into others. Some familiar and some not. You can’t move from your position. There’s not enough room to turn to the side and the satin offers you little comfort as the blood pools downward. You can feel the heat from the closeness of the wooden walls surrounding you. Your stomach cramps painfully from hunger. You should really just sleep to help pass the time. But the voices won’t let you. They remind you of every mistake you’ve ever made. Everyone you’ve ever wronged, whether intentional or not. The guilt, disappointment and panic twist and writhe within you.

You were right. After your first date, you thought there was something off about him. He was too intense and despite your attraction, he frightened you a little. You should have listened to your gut. You should have deleted his number and never contacted him again. You did this to yourself. It was all your fault. All of those dates, the hours you spent together. The warm bubbly emotions you felt. The whole time, Steve was manipulating you. Tricking you into caring for him. Seducing you. Hiding himself behind a handsome mask. _How could you have been so blind? How could you have been so stupid?_

You hear the beeps from the keypad and let out a pitiful whine. Is he back? Will he let you out? Maybe if you’re quiet, you can come out. Maybe if you show him you can behave, you will be freed. You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your whimpers as heavy footfalls sound down the hall and into the bedroom. More footsteps and then you hear water running. Your heart swells with relief when you hear the latches click and see light once the base is removed. Steve pulls you out from under the bed and looks down at you through the small window. You wince under the harsh bedroom light.

“Are you ready to come out now?”

You lower your hand and lick your dry lips. “Yes.... _please_.”

“Are you going to behave?”

You swallow with difficulty, your saliva doing little to alleviate your sore throat. “Yes...I’ll be good.”

He nods, satisfied, then opens the lid You’re shaking as Steve gently sits you up. You’re so relieved to be released, you bury your tearstained face into his chest. Fingers curling tightly into his T-shirt. He wraps his arms around you and pets your hair. A sick demented part inside of you is comforted by his presence.

“Shhh shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. I’m here now.”

You say nothing merely make pitiful little mewls, your arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer to you. He presses his mouth to your scalp.

“Come. I’ve drawn you a bath.”

You offer little resistance as he carefully stands you up and leads you by the hand to his bathroom. Your body is numb as he undresses with deceiving care and helps you into the tub. He even threw in a bath bomb for you. How generous.

Your thoughts flutter in and out as his hands roam your naked body. Lathering you with lavender scented soap. Gently washing your hair and massaging your scalp. Caressing your breasts and drifting between your legs. You can’t dwell on every horrible violating thing he does to you. You’d never survive.

You’re not even aware you’re crying until Steve reaches up to brush the tears from your cheeks. The face you once found handsome and noble etched with concern. You almost believe its genuine.

“Shhh...you’re okay. You’re safe now.”

“Everything...” You start quietly.

“Hmm?”

You raise your head. “Everything we did...all the time we spent together...it was all a lie. You’re not who I thought you were,” You admit forlornly.

Something flickers in Steve’s eyes for the briefest moment, before his usual smile returns. “Well you are _exactly_ who I thought you were. That’s why I love you.”

************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Steve drains the tub and assists you out. You could easily dry yourself, but he insists on doing it himself. It seems he likes to keep his hands on you at all time. Then he hands you a silk light pink nightie that you’ve never seen before and a matching thong. You’ve always hated thongs. But Steve apparently doesn’t.

He leans in and brushes his lips against your cheek. “You must be hungry. Why don’t I make us some popcorn and we can watch a movie? Would you like that?”

You nod, not even bothering to look him in the eye.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“...Yes, Steve.”

“That's better. Now why don’t you go ahead and dry your hair. Maybe put on some of that lotion I love. Join me when you’re done.”

“Ok.”

He finally leaves you alone. A small part of you wants to follow him, utterly terrified to be left alone again. The idea that any part of you still seeks comfort from his company even after everything, terrifies you even more.

Once your hair is dried and lotion applied, you move to join Steve in the living room. He’s already picked the movie for you. One of the many James Bond movies. An older one with Sean Connery. Golden Eye maybe. You never cared much for them and you explicitly remember telling Steve that once. Back when the two of you were actually dating and you lived in a state of naivete and ignorance. Completely blind to what he really is. You sit next to Steve on the couch, but leave a couple of feet between you. Steve looks at you and makes a sound of disproval.

“Come closer, I won’t bite,” he orders simply.

Your lips curl in distaste as you shift a little closer, but still leave a few inches. His muscular arm drapes around your shoulder and he pulls you into him. You dig your fingernails into your bare thighs.

He hums with contentment. “Much better.”

The movie plays in front of you but you don’t pay any attention. You haven’t left the apartment in almost two days. What did everyone think? Did no one care? Your mom? Chloe? Your coworkers? No one thought it was odd that you haven’t checked in?

Steve’s hand sliding under the edge of the nightgown brings you back to your nightmarish reality. His hot mouth pressing kisses to the side of your neck. You whine when eager fingers reach the apex between your legs and you try to push his hand away.

“Don’t fight me. Let me make you feel good.” Steve purrs in your ear. You press your lips together as you reluctantly surrender and part your thighs. Nothing good would come from fighting him. He’s proven that already.

“See? You’re learning already.”

You will your body to go numb as you pretend to concentrate on the movie. But in the months you spent with Steve...fucking him, means he’s very aware of what makes you come undone. His fingers slip into the front of your panties as he nips your ear and whispers vulgar things. Before long, he has you slick and whimpering behind clamped lips.

“So _responsive_. I love that about you.”

You keep your mouth tightly shut, not wanting to give him a shred of satisfaction from hearing your moans. But it’s all for not. He feels how wet you are, when his fingers slip inside of you with humiliating ease.

He begins grinding the palm of his hand against your stimulated clit. His other hand pushing the thin silk strap down your shoulder and groping your bared breast. You’re not even aware when your hips start moving against his hand. Your body abandoning any notion of resistance. You loathe your autonomy, leaving you alone with your disgust and shame. You hate Steve for making any part of you enjoy it.

But it’s not the Box. Either you endure your tormentor using your body any way he wants. Or be locked away like a porcelain doll rotting away in the attic. Feeling your mind and any sense of reality splinter away into fragments. It seems like an easy choice.

_But is it really?_

“Look at you. Fucking yourself on my fingers. Naughty girl, you _love_ it.”

You let out a pathetic cry as he greedily rips an orgasm out of you, your body unwillingly twitching as a rush of pleasure coarse through you. But it’s not satisfying. It’s cold and hollow. He’s cracking your soul with his fingerprints.

He slowly removes his fingers from inside you and holds them in front of your mouth. “Clean them.” He instructs and you oblige without pause. Funny how just a week ago, you found this little exchange incredibly erotic. But now, tasting your essence on his fingers is bitter and bile rises to the back of your throat.

Once he’s satisfied, Steve leans back into the couch and spreads his legs wide. Your heart drops when you see the obvious bulge tented in his dark sweatpants. He regards you with a hungry sneer.

“Now that I’ve taken care of _you_ , it’s time for you to take care of me.”


End file.
